War of the Dragons
by Oberon Sexton
Summary: King Aegon the Unlikely's rule has brought peace to the Seven Kingdoms, yet there is a storm brewing in the East as the Black Dragon prepares for war...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I suppose I best explain the nature of this fic before I get into it. This story as you may have guested from the title and summery, is about the War of the Ninepenny Kings. However we know so little of this era so I decided to fill in some of the blanks with my own ideas and OC's to help the story along, that said I'm trying to stay as accurate to the material as I can here. **

**Anyway, along with the usual disclaimer: I own nothing.**

"You must go with along with the Prince and do everything he commands without question, be silent and obedient."

His father had once told him that on the day he sent his son off to work as a page for the Ebon Prince. _Silent and Obedient._ Petyr had repeated his father's words over and over in his head until it was engraved into his very soul, which was what had kept him alive for so long whilst serving as cupbearer for his master. But of course that was before his master the prince had begun to have frequent guests and bizarre meetings late at night when the world was shrouded in darkness, and it was one such meeting that Petyr now stood in attendance at, quietly waiting in the corner of the room keeping his eyes trained on the table in fear of being noticed by the guests, struggling to keep steady the jug of wine in his hand.

Unlike most of the Prince's usual gatherings which took place in the grand hall, the current meeting was held underground in an old wine cellar that had long since been converted into the Prince's most private study. The rounded table that currently held nine occupants had been put into the room less than a week ago and already took up much of the small room, however the lack of space did not seem to bother the Prince or his guests, in fact they had been too busy with their own business to comment on the locale or the servants, something Petyr was extremely thankful for.

"We've already conquered much of the Disputed lands and now with the black dragon's strength combined to ours there is little that can stop us from going further, many of us here think that Tyrosh would make a valuable target next." said the Prince mildly, as if he was discussing the weather.

The various members all murmured in agreement and Petyr watched as the corners of the Prince's mouth lifted into a slight smile. Petyr often wondered how a Summer Islander like the Prince could ever have risen so high, members of the household would whisper to each other that he had extorted gold from one of the Triachs of Volantis, or that he was the last descendant of some ancient noble House from the basilisk isles. Petyr assumed that he had gained power by simply being more savage than his political opponents.

Suddenly the tall blonde haired Volantian gestured for some wine and Petyr hurried over and refilled the man's cup with Myrish gold and then moved back into the corner away from the attention of the guests. After the Volantian took a small sip he looked over to the Prince with a deep frown. "How soon can we begin to destabilise the Tyroshi state?" he asked in a bored tone.

The Ebon Prince's smile seemed to broaden at that, like a cat who had found himself a very nice bird. "I already have agents currently sowing seeds of discontent within the masses….by the time we're ready to launch an assault the people will be begging us to kill their leaders, and place our dear friend Goldentongue in charge."

This seemed to please the Volantian and he sat back in his chair, giving a colourful man sitting to his left, no doubt Goldentongue, a slight nod before he looked down into his wine and begun nursing it slowly, as if savouring the taste, though whether it was the taste of gold or the taste of future victory Petyr did not know.

Petyr was snapped back to reality when one of the pirates sitting at the table-for he had to be a pirate with that eye patch- slammed his cup down on the table hard and threw a glare over in Petyr's direction. "You deaf boy? Bring me some wine before I take those idiotic eyes from your skull!" barked the pirate, sending spittle everywhere.

"Apologies Milord." muttered Petyr as he hurried over to fill the man's cup.

After a beat the guests returned to their mutterings and discussions about various other cities to attack after Tyrosh, someone suggested Norvos, while another lord proudly said that Braavos would make a fine conquest which was met with a heated discussion on whether or not they would be able to attack the city by sea or if they had to use the land passages. The debates kept going backwards and forwards between them until suddenly a large hooded figure violently stabbed a curved dagger into the table, getting the attention of everyone in the room and causing Petyr to spill some wine as he jerked back.

"Are you all forgetting the true prize? The throne that is rightfully mine?" growled a raspy voice from under the hood. The figure rose from his seat and cast an oppressive shadow over the whole table; he was gigantic, easily twice as large as any man Petyr had ever seen and it seemed like the cloak he was wearing was made up of various sheets stitched together to cover his abnormally large chest and torso. The other eight members said nothing and watched the hooded monster in stunned silence.

"My friends, a far greater prize awaits us…..one that was stolen from me and my forefathers, one that we can TAKE BACK!" he shouted, slamming his colossal fist into the oaken table, denting it slightly.

"Westeros." said Goldentongue, with a sardonic smile on his brightly coloured face. "A wondrous prospect, but how do you propose we beat your Targaryen kin?"

The hooded man merely inclined his head to an odd angle in Goldentongue's direction before answering in a surprisingly calm voice. "The same way we will give_ you_ a crown. First we will show the people the ugly side of their King and his lords, and then, when every man, woman and child from Dorne to the Wall _scream_ for his blood…..we shall give it to them. We will wipe the line of Daeron from existence."

A hushed silence fell over the table then, and many of the lords looked from one to another as they absorbed the gravity of what their hulking ally had suggested. Petyr looked at each of their expressions, watching as they began to silently weigh the pros and cons of the idea.

The hooded figure then produced a scroll of parchment from his robes and flattened it on the middle of the table, showing a map of some foreign land full of writings that Petyr couldn't read or understand. The big man then pointed a mailed glove near the bottom of the land. "The bountiful lands of Reach" he then moved his finger "the rolling hills of Gold in the Westerlands, the beauty of the Trident…..I offer this all to you my friends, to you and your sons after you. All I ask is that you fight with me, in freeing the Seven Kingdoms from the bastard's rule."

Petyr could already see that the lords were finding the big man's offer more and more enticing as they visualized the Western continent. Finally the Ebon Prince stood from his seat and looked over the others. "You paint quite the picture Lord Blackfyre, and I think that there are none here who would be foolish enough to turn away such an offer, not after we've already accomplished so much with the aid of your Golden Company bolstering our ranks we can face any force…. all in favour?" he asked the others, each of them slowly grunting or murmuring in the affirmative. "Good….then I think that will be all for tonight, tomorrow begins the fall of Tyrosh!"

The Nine then all gave a bow to each other and slowly left the small room, and seeing his master leave Petyr made for the door too before feeling the rough mailed grip of the hooded man on his arm. With a slight growl the man looked down at Petyr from the darkness of his robe. "I knew you were starring boy, I _always_ know when someone stares."

A wave of terror shot through Petyr like a jolt of lightening, and he quickly made to apologize. "Please forgive me milord I didn't mean nothing by it, I-"

"I am no mere lord boy, I am the _King_! The rightful King!" snarled the giant man before suddenly easing his grip on Petyr's arm. "But I suppose it's only right that you see the face of your new King." And in one swift motion he pulled back his hood.

Petyr slowly backed away as a terror began to overtake him from the sight that was standing before him; the man had a broad ugly face, with short silver hair and piercing lilac eyes that were aflame with malevolence as they looked down at him. But what truly frightened Petyr was the shape sticking out of the tall man's neck; grossly misshapen and small, sat another head, one that looked as if it were a child's. Its half formed face was locked in an expression of pain and misery.

The monster standing before him began to laugh then, a horrible sound that cut through Petyr's soul like a hot knife through butter and in that moment he was so certain of death that he dropped his wine jug and ran from the room as fast as he could, the mad laughter of Maelys the Monstrous following him.


	2. Name Days

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

"Late! He's _always_ late!" complained Jaehaerys as he paced backwards and forwards in his father's study, much to the amusement of his younger siblings. "I _specifically_ told him to be here before nightfall, and look at that! The sun's already set!"

Aemon leaned back lazily on their father's desk and gave a yawn that seemed to be more of boredom than tiredness. "Duncan's always had his head in the clouds; remember when he signed up for Grandfather's nameday Tourney? They had to send Ser Harlan to fetch him, bloody fool had slept in. He's probably still in bed now, though I doubt he's doing much sleeping with that new wife of his."

Rhaelle gave her brother a playful smack on his shoulder for that. "Oh Aemon grow up. You should be happy that Duncan has found love." she said in faux anger, the remnants of smile breaking out in the corners of her mouth.

Aemon sat up and lazily wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulder and gave her a cheeky grin. "Oh I am sweet sister, just as I am happy that you married your Stag." he said with a laugh.

Rhaelle's violet eyes narrowed at that and she gave Aemon a strong poke to the ribs. "He _has_ a name, and you're in no place to talk! How soon after you married Alerie did you get her with child?"

Aemon gave a bark of laughter at that. "Why are you so concerned about what goes on in my bed? Planning on taking up family traditions?"

Rhaelle stared back at him wide eyed and mouth hung open in shock before her pale face turned a shade of crimson as she angrily lunged at Aemon who playfully wrestled with his little sister for a moment before Jaehaerys broke in ."Look, if he's not here soon we'll have to go down without him, I need you two to pretend your adults for once, can you do that?"

"Oh you'll never get those two to behave, that's why _I'm _here." cut in a familiar throaty voice from behind them.

There stood Duncan, a quiet smile gracing his dark features. Through some odd miracle Duncan had inherited their great-grandmother's Dornish colouring and was even shorter than the rest of the family yet kept the purple eyes that the rest of their House carried. _An enigma to outsiders but every bit the dragon father and our forefathers were _thought Aemon.

"What was the hold-up brother?" asked Aemon as he unlatched himself from his sister's grip.

"Jenny…..needed to speak with someone. I'm sorry I kept you all waiting, is everything ready?" he asked cheerfully.

Jaehaerys looked away for a moment and began going over a list of things in his head, quietly muttering to himself before finally giving his brother a nod in the affirmative. "All the right food has been prepared, we managed to get several musicians that know all of his favourite songs, all of the guests have arrived and we even had the hall decorated with his favourite colour!"

"Does he suspect anything?" asked Rhaelle, as she dusted herself off, and absently made sure that her silk dress wasn't too wrinkled by her brothers foolery.

Jaehaerys shook his head with a smile. "No, in fact he's been acting rather glum lately. Perhaps this party is just what he needs, and the King's entourage should be arriving any minute so let us take this downstairs."

And with that the four siblings made their way down the winding hallways of Summerhall and towards the main banquet hall where the household servants had been busy setting up decorations and arranging the various musicians around the room. Aemon scanned the room as he walked in, he could see his nephews chatting away with each other like only the young can. Looking over by one of the hearths he spotted his good-brother Edric Baratheon enjoying a cup of wine with Ser Harlan, no doubt trying to get a war story out of the grizzled old knight._ Good luck with that_ thought Aemon sardonically to himself as he watched the old man mutter and waffle on with his conversation.

The young prince was broken from his observations by a pair of slender arms wraping around his waist. Turning his head slightly he felt the warmth of his wife's cheek press against his shoulder, her soft voice gently making his heart beat twice as fast. "Do you think he'll like it?" she asked him quietly, her voice like honey.

Aemon turned fully to face Alerie and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips and rested his head against hers. "I think it's perfect my love." he said as he lightly brushed aside a stray lock of silver hair from her face. She smiled up at him with an expression that was so full of joy that it made his heart ache and he couldn't help himself but to kiss her again.

"How have you been feeling?" he asked suddenly as he brought his hand over to the swell of Alerie's stomach "I hope this hasn't been too much on you, the Maester did say not to strain yourself."

"You worry too much! I merely told the servants where to hang what, and laid a few flowers here and there and left all of the heavy lifting to Ser Harlan." She replied with a laugh before absently rubbing her stomach. "Though all of this excitement has been reached the babe, it's been kicking like mad all day."

Aemon's face lit up at that and he smiled down at Alerie, a grin happily plastered across his Valyrian face. "You see! That's my son waiting to come out and fight the world!" he announced a little too loudly, causing Alerie to look around with a slight blush.

"Or it's your _daughter_ eager to join in on the festivities." She chided happily.

Aemon took his wife's hands in his own and gently kissed the back of them before grinning back at her. "Boy, Girl, it makes no difference as long as they're happy and healthy."

Alerie opened her mouth to respond when suddenly a messenger came into the room hurriedly and rushed up to Jaehaerys and whispered something in his ear before rushing back out of the room. Jaehaerys clapped his hands together loudly getting the attention of the guests. "It has been brought to my attention that the King's entourage has just arrived at the gates of Summerhall and will be with us shortly. I'd like for everyone to get into position please!"

"Well that's our cue my love." said Aemon as he and Alerie walked over to join the rest of the family who stood in front of the partygoers, waiting in rapt silence as they heard the familiar sound of the kingsgaurd approaching.

The great doors opened and in walked King Aegon, tall and proud with his vibrant gold silver hair that hung past his shoulders and deep purple eyes, he looked every bit the strong Targaryen king of his youth with only the occasional lines around his eyes and mouth to betray his seven and fifty years.

The king gave the great hall a brief look and with a hint of a smile stepped aside and ushered forward his Lord Commander to get a look at the festivities who was met with a cheer of congratulations from everyone in the room.

Ser Duncan the Tall stood in surprise as he looked at all of the various guests smiling back at him and turned to the King in confusion. "What...?"

Aegon smiled broadly at his oldest friend and put his hand on the big knight's shoulder. "Did you really think we'd forgetten your name day?"

Dunk looked down at his best friend in shock and then looked at all of the people, every one of them smiling at him, genuine smiles of love. He looked up at the decorations adorning the great hall and all of the foods prepared, the musicians playing beautiful melodies. "All of this….all of the effort, the time you must have put in…." trailed off the big knight, his knightly composure lost as he was seemingly overwhelmed and to the surprise of everyone Dunk started to tear up a little. "I…thank you…..thank…you."

Rhaelle hurried up to the big man and wrapped her slender arms around his large frame squeezing him with all her might. Looking up at him with her big violet eyes she flashed the old man the most dazzling smile she could muster and went on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek. "Of course this is for you Uncle Dunk, if anyone deserves this it's you. All my life, you've always been there for us, always kept us safe and kept us true. You're the best man I know Uncle and don't you try to telling me and anyone else here otherwise!" and with that tears began to roll down Rhaelle's beautiful face as well and she smiled happily up at him before giving him another great hug.

In an act that was practically unheard of the king himself embraced Dunk as well much to the surprise of those in attendance. Aemon couldn't but smile madly at the sight of his father, his sovereign, acting so human and without thinking began to clap slowly and soon the other guests began to join him in a symphony of applause and cheer.

Eventually the guest of honour managed to pull himself together and went to properly greet his guests, people from all over Westeros such as members of the Dornish court as well as members of House Osgrey and even a few bannermen from the North, all people whom Ser Duncan had helped or in some way served.

Alerie excused herself and gave Aemon a quick kiss before she went to speak with Jenny about some matter, leaving the young prince to stand about amongst the hordes of party goers. He was just about to fetch himself a cup of dornish red when he felt something tugging at his side and looking down he saw his nephew Steffon looking up at him excitedly.

"Uncle, father wanted me to tell you that he and uncle Duncan will be riding on the morrow and that you are invited too." said the boy dutifully.

Aemon smiled and ruffled the boy's coal black hair. "I'd be delighted to come lad. Now run along and play with your cousins."

After his little chat with Steffon, Aemon finally managed to get Dunk away from all of the various guests trying get the big man's befuddled attention and walked him over to one of the tables to fetch them both a cup of wine.

"None for me thank you." said Dunk gently. "I still need to be at my best to protect the King."

Aemon scoffed at that. "Just one cup, surely you won't be too badly affected by a single cup or I'll have to start calling you Dunk the Drunk."

Dunk smiled lightly at that and accepted the cup. "Fine, but just the one. You should know better than to tempt an old knight. I could still teach you a thing or two, drunk or not."

Aemon laughed happily at that before his violet eyes began to soften considerably. "I can still remember when you first taught me and the Dragonfly how to ride, how to swing a sword….all my life I've wanted to be like you, to be as brave as you. That was my biggest dream as boy, to grow up and fight in the Kingsgaurd by your side."

"And thank the Gods you didn't! Or else you wouldn't have married that lovely wife of yours!" replied Dunk, giving the young prince a light slap on the back. "She's good for you." He added after beat. "You laugh and joke with everyone and you smile easily, but we could still tell that your sense of humour was just armour to keep others from getting too close, we were worried, me and your father, honestly that you were unhappy….but then you met Alerie and you seemed to open up more."

Aemon looked away in shame as he absorbed what Dunk had told him. He knew what they were saying was true, that he used to be distant from everyone, including his family and that he still was to some extent. _In my defence, it's hard to have a deep and meaningful when your father is the most powerful man in the world…_

"She makes me happy."

Dunk gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad, truly I am….now if you'll excuse me I think Ser Harlan has just eaten a piece of my lemon cake." Aemon smiled faintly as he watched the big knight hurry over to Ser Harlan by the sweets table and begin to chastise him.

Finally he decided to go and sit with his wife, who was currently deep in conversation with Duncan's wife Jenny. The latter's brown hair was, as usual, adorned with flowers and Aemon could tell by the way she was fidgeting that she wasn't comfortable in the dress Duncan had bought for her. Even her posture seemed so slouched when in comparison to Alerie's. _Despite her being here with all of us she's an outsider too in her own ways…_

"Ah, Aemon there you are! Jenny wanted to ask you something." said Alerie, gesturing for the young prince to come sit.

"Ask away." He told Jenny happily.

Jenny leant forward and locked her brown eyes with his violet and in a hushed whisper asked "Did you dream of the fire?"

Aemon looked at her in confusion and then at Alerie who did nothing but shrug. Was he being made fun off? "I have many dreams sweet Good-sister and on occasion they include fire but I'm afraid you'll need to be more specific."

Jenny frowned a little but patiently explained it to him. "Have you dreamt of a small island consumed in _black_ flames with countless bodies littering the sea around it?"

Aemon watched her carefully and after a beat shook his head in the negative, deeply confused by her words. Jenny just gave a defeated sigh at that. "Oh well, I suppose it's just Duncan then…I wonder if he'll want to dance?" and with that rose from her seat and wandered off without another word.

Aemon looked over at his wife with a raised eyebrow. "What was that all about?"

"Oh she's been going on and on about dreams, I told her you were prone to having vivid dreams too." She replied casually.

"You actually _told_ her about that?" he asked incredulously.

"To be honest I just wanted to see the look on your face when she told you about her dream." said Alerie, with a cheeky grin spreading across her face and before he could say anything in retort she quickly gave him a deep kiss silencing his thoughts.

After a moment she broke away and gave him a dreamy smile before slowly rising from her seat, using the table to help support her pregnant body. "The little one is causing grief again; I'm off to bed my love."

"I'm not far behind you." He told her before leaning up to give her one final quick kiss and watched as she and her ladies in waiting slowly made their way out of the great hall and up to the bedroom she and Aemon shared upstairs.

For a while the young Targaryen simply sat in silence as he tiredly watched his friends and family dance and laugh with each other and found himself quietly feeling a little more optimistic than he had been in a long time. But then he saw a young man hurry towards his father and after giving a quick bow he whispered something in the King's ear. Whatever it was made the colour drain from his face and harshly whisper something to Jaehaerys and Dunk which likewise made both men to look at him in shock. Eventually the King had to excuse himself but bid his guests to stay and enjoy themselves for as long as they'd like.

Aemon spotted Jaehaerys about to leave as well and hurried over to him, grabbing his arm a little too tightly causing his sickly brother to look up at him with a wounded look. Aemon knew he'd feel bad about it later but right now he was determined to find out what was going on. "What is it brother, what's happened?"

Jaehaerys gave him a conflicted look but finally said it. "Tyrosh has fallen to the Blackfyres."


	3. Doubts and Insecurities

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Big thanks to Ramzes for reviewing**

That night Aemon's dreams were filled with screams of dying men and dragonfire, like a symphony of despair ringing through his head louder and louder until eventually he realized that the screaming was coming from himself and he suddenly woke with a jolt in his bed covered in sweat while Alerie sat beside him trying her best to soothe him.

"It was just a dream sweetheart, Shhh it wasn't real." cooed Alerie as she tried to get him to lie back down. Aemon was breathing heavily as he tried to shake the smell of sulphur from his head and the metallic taste of blood from his mouth. After laying back down he began rubbing his race to try and stop his racing thoughts.

"Are you ok?" she asked as she pressed herself against him, placing her hand gently over his chest as if she could stop his rapid breathing by holding it down.

"It was so real….the smells of men roasting in their armour…..blood splashing over my face…Gods…" he whispered in a hoarse voice that was raw from screaming. He pinched the ridges of his eyes together before turning to look at Alerie. "I'm sorry I scared you."

Alerie smiled faintly at that and caressed his cheek softly at that. "There's no need to apologise, now go back to sleep my love."

He nodded absently and tried to let his swirling thoughts go but found sleep would not take him so he settled for laying in the comforting embrace of his wife for a few hours before he finally decided to get up. He carefully unlatched himself from Alerie's grip and softly walked over towards the curtains and could see sun just about ready to rise from the east. _I suppose I best get ready for Edric's riding trip…_

Moving as quietly as he could, Aemon quickly procured a pair of riding clothes and swiftly began to dress himself before leaving his chambers and heading downstairs to the courtyard. On his way down he came across the familiar sight of Duncan lazily peeling himself an apple in the hallway. "Fancy a slice brother?" he asked cheerfully.

"No…I never have much appetite in the mornings, and certainly not an hour as early as this." Replied Aemon as he walked with his brother to the stables.

The two of them found their respective steads soon enough and after Duncan had finished feeding the remainder of his apple to his horse they made their way out of the courtyard and up to one of the hill's just outside of the castle where Edric and Steffon were waiting for them.

Duncan was the first to voice his surprise at their nephew's presence. "Will the lad be able to keep up? Perhaps he'd prefer to sleep in?"

Steffon would have none of that. "No, no please I want to ride with you uncle!" complained the boy looking from his father to Duncan to Aemon and back to his father again.

"We won't be riding fast anyways, he should be fine. Besides, I have much to tell you." Put in Aemon trying to be amiable.

Duncan seemed intrigued by that so conceded and allowed Steffon to join them and after galloping through a few of the open fields the three men slowed to a trot while Steffon went on ahead, Edric occasionally keeping an eye on the boy. Once Aemon saw that his nephew was out of hearing range he began to tell them.

"The Blackfyre pretender Maelys and his band of misfits have taken Tyrosh."

Duncan looked at him carefully from his horse and an unreadable expression came over his face and he began to grind his teeth slightly as he slowly visualized something in his head before he finally looking at Aemon with a frown. "Father won't let that bastardspawn get far; he's kept the realm in peace for twenty years now, I think he can handle himself."

If Duncan showed some doubt then Edric seemed completely optimistic and with a booming laugh announced that "He can come and try! I don't care how many swords he has to buy, I'll throw the bastard back into the ocean and he can swim back to whatever shithole he crawled out of!"

Duncan laughed a little at their good-brother's boasts yet Aemon still didn't feel right about it. "These people have been trying to destroy our dynasty since the time of my grandfather and because of them the realm was split in two…I'm not sure that they're ones to take lightly."

Edric gave Aemon a slap on the back for that. "Many times has the black dragon raised himself in rebellion and every time your family have beaten them back. Have a little faith my friend."

Aemon was about to reply when young Steffon came riding up to them in a hurry, a large grin on his face. "I found the tree! I found the tree that Mother told me about! It's just up ahead!" said the boy excitedly before racing off, expecting that his father and uncles would follow which they did readily enough.

Eventually they found Steffon dismounted from his horse and trying to scale a grand oak that lay nearly dead in front of them, it's large branches having been so burdened by their own weight that they had sagged down unto the ground, providing excellent footholds for the young Baratheon to climb over. Finally the boy stopped and pointed at a large series of carvings cut deep into the wood. The names "DUNCAN, AEMON, RHAELLE" still carved boldly into the oak, large enough for even the three riders to see from the ground. _There was a time when I would have joined the lad up there_ thought Aemon fondly.

"Boy, come down here now." called Edric more than a little too firmly.

"Yes Father…" and with a pout he scrambled down the branches and slowly walked back over to his waiting horse. Once he dismounted he slowly trotted beside Aemon as they began to return to the grounds of Summerhall. "How come Uncle Jaehaerys doesn't have his name written on the tree?"

"Because he seldom came outside with us, he was too sick for such things." replied Aemon honestly without taking his eyes off of the horizon.

"Didn't that make him sad? Not being able to play with the rest of you?"

Aemon was stumped by that and suddenly found a deep guilt well up from within himself. He, Duncan and Rhaelle had often written their other brother of as a bore, as too old despite his years. Could it be that by not being able to enjoy childhood with the rest of them he had been forced to grow up sooner? _Did we forget about you big brother?_

"I suppose it did." replied Aemon faintly.

They arrived back in the castle around noon and found that there was a bizarre silence in the castle, especially after the last few days of preparation and the housing of various guests and lords. Duncan didn't seem to be overly concerned and merely stated that Jenny would probably be in the Summerhall library and after he dismounted and went off in search of her Edric sniggered to Aemon. "I didn't even know she could read!" he joked loudly.

"Perhaps he taught her?"

"With that brother of yours anything's possible!" laughed Edric before putting his arm over Aemon's shoulder. "Care to join me for an afternoon drink? I think I brought a few casks of the stuff those Summer Islanders drink, what do you say? Care to give it a try?"

Aemon considered it for all of two seconds. "I'd love to, but unfortunately I must needs see my wife."

Edric didn't seem the least bit deterred by that. "All right then, more for me!" and happily marched off with young Steffon while Aemon went through the court yard in search of the rest of his kin.

After a bit of exploration around the castle grounds he found Alerie sitting in the garden having lunch with his niece Rhaella, Jaehaerys daughter. Alerie was chatting away animatedly as she explained how Lord Tyrell's last ball nearly ended in a grand fire whilst Rhaella sat in rapt attention, hanging off every word.

"And then by the time Lady Fossoway's myrish dress had begun to catch ablaze we-Oh hello Aemon." She said as she noticed him.

"My two favourite ladies, do you mind if I join you?"

Alerie just waved him over and he pulled up a seat beside Rhaella who blushed furiously and began playing with the end of her braid as Aemon helped himself to a collection of fruits that was lying in the centre of the table.

"So where is everyone?" he asked as he picked up a large peach.

"Well his grace took the entourage and left for Kings Landing early this morning not long after you and Duncan went out for your ride." She said as she went about spreading jam over a piece of toast.

Aemon shifted uncomfortably in his seat at that. If his father had thought it necessary to drop what he was doing and go right back to Kings Landing after a day's travel then things must have been more dire than he had originally thought. "Did you speak with him? Was he…._distressed_ in anyway?"

Alerie gave him a confused look and shook her heard. "To be quite honest I only awoke just as they were leaving."

"What about Jaehaerys? Did he leave too?"

This time it was Rhaella who answered. "Father's in the library….I don't expect him to leave for a while though." There was a hint of sadness in his niece's voice and he wondered if perhaps Jaehaerys ought to spend less time at study and more with his own family. _Though of course father encourages it, ever since Duncan gave up the crown… _"Well since he's going to be so busy how would you like to sup with me and Aunt Alerie tonight?"

Rhaella perked up in her seat at the idea, a smile forming across her face despite her futile attempts to hide it. "I'd like that very much uncle."

"Excellent, though I'm afraid it may come down to a fight to the death if you try and deny your Aunt the last lemon cake." replied Aemon, only to receive a swift kick in the shin from under the table from Alerie who smiled sweetly back at him.

After that they ate in relative peace for a while with Rhaella occasionally asking Alerie questions about her pregnancy and what names they were planning on. He quickly grew tired of all that talk and rose to his feet.

"Is something wrong?" asked Alerie.

"No…I just think I'll go for a walk." He told them before flashing a smile at Alerie. "Maybe I can find some rare flower that matches your beauty." He teased lightly before leaning over to taste the sweet warmth of his wife's lips.

* * *

Just as Rhaella had said, Aemon found his brother busy in the Summerhall library sitting over on a table by the windows with his head buried in some dusty old book, his brows furrowed as if he was having trouble deciphering some passage. "What do you need Aemon?" he asked without looking up.

"Do I need a reason to see my big brother?"

"Yes." Again without shifting his gaze from the page in front of him.

Aemon frowned but then pulled up a seat across from Jaehaerys, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to read the title of the ancient tome that his brother seemed to find so interesting, from what he could tell it was about the war between the Valyrian Freehold and the Ghiscari Empire.

"Has there been any more news on the Blackfyres? I mean father wouldn't just take his entire entourage to Summerhall and then just march them straight back without reason would he?" asked Aemon, the doubt quite apparent in his voice.

Jaehaerys finally looked up at him then, great bags sitting underneath his big violent eyes and his silver hair dishevelled. It was then that Aemon noticed all of the other books piled around the table, had his brother been here reading all through the night? "Father has to be very careful here. Trying to get seven kingdoms to declare war after two decades of peace is easier said than done, that's why he's called an emergency small council meeting."

Aemon felt a jolt of fear run down his spine at Jaehaerys words. "What are the chances that the pretender will cross the sea?"

Jaehaerys looked at him with a grim expression and exhaled deeply. "If….if the report reports coming back from our spies are true then it is likely that they're getting their forces ready for another attack. If they manage to take Pentos or Gods forbid, Braavos, then there is a very real possibility that they could launch an attack on Westeros."

"Do you really think that a foreign force could invade the Seven Kingdoms?" asked Aemon in disbelief.

"We're living proof that it can be done! Aegon the conqueror did it, and while Blackfyre may not have dragons he has a considerable army and with just the littlest bit of luck he could break through and gain a foothold in the Seven Kingdoms and once that happens it's only a matter of time before he seduces lords away from their liege and then it'll be civil war without end, on and on until everything that the Targaryen dynasty created will be reduced to ashes…. Mother have mercy, I should have read the prophecies more closely."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" asked Aemon angrily.

Jaehaerys looked up Aemon as if he had forgotten that he wasn't alone and pinched the ridge of his nose in frustration. "…..look, it's likely that Father will want us by his side for support. We are blood of Dragon after all and with that comes a responsibility to protect the people of the realm, I need to know I can count on you."

"Of course, I'm not the laughing fool you and father think me to be." replied Aemon briskly.

His brother however just gave him a look of pity and for a moment seemed as if he was going to say something but then the moment passed and he went back to his books, trying to find the place he had last been on before Aemon arrived. The younger Targaryen watched his brother lose himself in the dusty old book and found himself feeling saddened. _You've always had books haven't you brother? Books don't break bones or get you sick, and books never make you feel like an embarrassment …_

* * *

Aemon spent the rest of the night in a sullen mood as he went over what Jaehaerys had told him. Things were only made worse during supper when, despite his wife and niece's best efforts, the most conversation they could get from him were single word responses as he absently chewed his food without tasting, nodded his head without listening, his brother's words ringing throughout his head. _Everything the Targaryen dynasty created will be reduced to ashes…_

Whatever lady like manners that had been drilled into Alerie's head her entire life, they didn't stop her fury as she and Aemon returned to their chambers. As soon as the door was closed Alerie turned around and began hitting him over and over until finally he had to grab her wrist to restrain her.

"What in the name of the Gods are you doing?" he asked in confusion as she struggled to break free of his grasp.

"Ohhh so there is a person in there after all and not just some automation! You were completely rude out there! Not just to me but to Rhaella as well, and you know how much that girl looks up to you! What has been going on with you?"

Aemon flinched at her words and said nothing. He merely sighed and tried to look away in shame only to find her hands on his face forcing him to look at her, this time her expression was not that of anger. "Is….is it me? Are you…unhappy with me?" she asked in an unsure voice.

"What? No, no never. I could _never_ be unhappy with you my love." he said as he took her hands from his face and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "What on earth has given you that idea?"

Alerie looked down for a moment as she tried to contain her undoubtedly racing emotions. "Every time we talk…you're always hiding behind jokes or flirtations but whenever I want to talk, _really _talk you put up walls; you don't let me in, I thought…I thought perhaps you were regretting…us." she said miserably.

_Have I been blind to her insecurities all this time? _he thought sadly before bringing Alerie into his arms, gently caressing her. "I have been distant lately, but none of that is a reflection of you my love, it's….something else, something has been brewing in my mind and honestly I'm not sure how to deal with it."

"That's why you have me, to help share the load. I am yours and you are mine." replied Alerie with a fierceness he had not known that she could possess.

He was silent for a moment as he considered whether or not to speak about what had been troubling him lately out of fear for how she would take it in her current state, but finally he relented when he saw the determination burning within her. "My dreams, the last few nights I have been dreaming of death and darkness. Things have just felt, well, wrong…and then last night at Ser Duncan's party…the reason why my father left so suddenly, the reason why he is now on his way back to Kings Landing, is because the Blackfyres have returned." He paused for a moment to gauge Alerie's reaction yet to his surprise she had merely frowned a little and urged him to go on.

"They've already taken Tyrosh and Jaehaerys thinks that there's a chance that they could be readying an army from the Free Cities. He thinks that they plan to invade." He said finally as he uneasily watched for her reaction.

"We'll defeat them." She said in an assured voice, forcing herself to smile. "The Seven Kingdoms will not suffer this and with your father they'll stop these pretenders."

Part of him wanted to agree with her, or at least pretend he did for her benefit but he knew in his heart that he couldn't afford to lie to her or himself anymore. "I don't think so. Edric, Duncan, they seemed certain that father and his bannermen could defeat any enemy and that it'll all be some grand adventure but I can't help but feel that what's coming will be something worse. What if my dreams aren't just dreams? What if they're warnings? Or perhaps the bane of ancestors is on me and I've inherited my family's madness…."

Alerie said nothing but took his hand within her own and held it tightly. There was something in that simple gesture that was just enough to warm his very soul and invigorate the fire within him, stirring the dragon back into life. "Whatever is coming, whatever the horrors Maelys Blackfyre is bringing with him from across the sea….I'll make damned sure that you, and the entire realm that our child is about to be born into will be safe."

Alerie smiled up at him and began to lead him over to their bed. "That is most brave of you, but for now I think I'll settle for lying in the arms of my dragon."


	4. A Coat of Gold

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Big thanks to Ramzes for the reviewing!**

"We can't just call the entire realm to arms!" shouted Lord Tyrell in clear disgust of the Hand's proposal. "Such a thing would only spark paranoia and fear among the masses." He explained fervently.

"They should be afraid! The Blackfyres have taken Tyroshi, they carved a path across the Free Cities and now set their sights on the Seven Kingdoms, I also hear that the Pirate Kings have thrown in with them as well. If the Bastard were able to gain the loyalty of the Ironmen as well then he'd have a fleet over five times the size of our own!" shouted back Jasper Arryn, King Aegon's current Hand.

The whole time Aemon was sitting as quiet as a mouse beside Jaehaerys and his father watching the two old men argue backwards and forwards with rising intensity. He had never really enjoyed sitting in on his father's council meetings, finding them agonizingly boring more often than not. However boredom was the last thing on his mind now as all the high lords sat on edge with the news that the Blackfyres had begun to mobilize their sellsail fleet.

The entire time the King sat in silence, watching the arguments before him as though they were that of two small children fighting over a wooden horse. Likewise Jaehaerys also remained impassive, yet every now and then his big purple eyes would flick to Aemon in reassurance before flicking back to the Small Council members. Dunk, as always, stood behind the King with a dutiful look on his face as he kept his mailed hand on his sword.

Once the two men had reached a lull in their arguments, Aegon stood from his seat and cleared his throat. "My lords, here are the facts; as we speak our enemy is readying an army to take our homes, steal our crops and murder our people. The attack _is _coming, whether we are ready for it or not the Blackfyre will be here, and he is bringing a horde of Pirates and thieves with him." the King then brought his gaze to the old man draped in green and gold. "Now Lord Tyrell, I understand your concerns but the simple truth is that if we want to maintain the peace for our children then we'll need to prepare for war, there is no alternative."

The old man nodded in acceptance of his king's words and returned to his seat, as did lord Arryn, happy that Aegon had chosen to take his council. The rest of the lords were given instructions to make preparations in their various duties and to inform their bannermen what was coming, and with that adjourned the meeting.

Just as Aemon was about to rise he felt his father's hand on his shoulder. "Would you wait a moment Aemon?"

The young prince merely nodded and sat in his chair, waiting for the eventual barrage that he had somehow inspired as the rest of the council cleared out of the large room until it was just Aemon, his father, and Dunk. However the argument he was expecting never came.

"I need you to do me a favour son." Said the king quietly "I need you to go to the Westerlands and treat with Tytos Lannister and see if you can get him involved with our plans."

Aemon was stunned and looked at his father in shock. "You want _me _to speak with him?"

Aegon, to his son's surprise actually laughed at that. "Who else would I send? You are my son, and Prince of Summerhall; you can speak for this House."

"But father I'm just a….Surely Jaehaerys would be more suited, or even Duncan, they've…they've always been better, stronger and smarter."

Aegon looked at his youngest son for a moment, his purple eyes gleaming with some hidden sense of pride and rested his hand on his son's shoulder. "You are not them. Your strengths are _different_ but that does not make them any less. You're much too dismissive of your own ability, if you but gave yourself a chance I'm certain you could to great things….I'm giving you this chance now son. Show the world what you can do."

And with a kind smile Aegon left the room with Dunk hot on his heels leaving Aemon alone with his father's words.

* * *

When Aemon returned to his rooms he instantly knew something was amiss. The books from his personal collection were out of place and lying around the floor and upon checking the titles he gave a weary sigh and began picking up the discarded tomes and putting them back into their correct places from his bookshelf. _Tales from the fourteen fires, Black Dread, Fields of Fire…now there's only one person I know who loves dragons this much…_

"You'd best come out from wherever you're hiding Aerys." He called out tiredly.

And like that he heard the sound of feet moving his way and out came his nephew, with a mischievous grin on his face. "I was going to clean it up."

"I've heard that one before." replied Aemon absently as took out a pair of riding clothes and went into the next room to change.

"Are you going somewhere uncle?" called Aerys.

"Your grandfather wants me to go see the Lannisters."

There was a pause, and then "Can I come?"

Aemon gave another sigh but found himself smiling none the less and after he had finally gotten his riding gear on he walked out and looked down at Aerys, already going through one of the books Aemon had just put away. "It's going to be a long trip, I may be gone for week or more…you'd probably be bored stiff."

The boy shook his head furiously at that. "No, please can I come? Please? I've never seen the Westerlands and it's so _boring_ here! All everyone does is go to meetings and hold court and, oh please Uncle, I promise I'll behave, I will."

Aemon smiled and ruffled the boy's sliver locks. "Ask your father and then we'll see."

His nephew then bounded off out of the room, no doubt searching for his father so that he could pester him as well. Aemon had to admit that the boy's energy was refreshing after a long day listening to old men arguing and spitting venom at each other.

The young prince called out for a servant and quickly informed the young woman of his travel arrangements and gave her instructions to have his things ready. After she had gone off to fulfil her duties Aemon locked himself into his study and poured himself a cup of wine. After a beat he went over to his bookcase and pulled out one of the smaller sized tomes that had been tucked in the corner, and sat down with it on his desk.

He gently traced the books title with his finger, _The Battle of Redgrass Field by Maekar Targaryen _and absently took a sip of wine before opening was a story he had heard about dozens of times from both the Maesters and tutors whom educated him and from his father, although more than anything he wanted to know what it had been like from someone who had actually been there so he asked the Grand Maester himself to find the book for him. Aemon found it to be quite frank in its descriptions of the Crown and their tactics during the battle, and while it didn't make for a pretty read the young prince found it to be refreshing in its honesty.

Maekar Targaryen had died early on during Aemon's childhood so he only had a few key memories of the man. He could with some clarity say that his grandfather had been intimidating to him with his tall frame and stern voice, yet he also recalled moments, only small moments, where his grandfather's emotional armour would fade and he would smile and laugh. But that man was long since gone, another victim of rebellion and attempted civil war. _The Blackfyres wouldn't let him rest. They'll never let any of us rest…_

The thought that his family was about to be dragged into yet another conflict with the black dragons was more than a little disturbing to Aemon, not just for his own wellbeing but for the sake of his nieces and nephews, and for his unborn child. _I won't let the bastards haunt our family, not again._

* * *

It was just after midday when Aemon and his entourage were about to leave. Originally there were only twenty Household knights and Ser Harlan of the kingsguard accompanying Aemon to Casterly Rock; however that number was doubled when Jaehaerys came out with a barely contained Aerys. "It would do him some good to see the realm a bit, but please try to keep him from doing anything foolish." asked his brother in between coughs, his health not appreciative of the cool breeze.

"I'll keep him glued to my side at all times brother." Aemon told him before scooping the boy up and placing him on a nearby horse. Jaehaerys nodded his thanks and after a beat gave his brother a hug before hurrying back indoors.

Just as they left the city Aerys pointed out a lone rider approaching and Ser Harlan moved up to keep the boy safely behind him. However once the figure rode closer Aemon called off his guards and chuckled lightly to himself as he waved to the rider who returned the gesture.

"Gerold!" he shouted happily.

The big man rode right up to Aemon's horse, reaching across and shaking the Targaryens hand with such a fury that he was sure that it would break off. "Aemon my friend, how've you been? Has my sister whipped you in line yet?" he asked in his booming voice.

"Heh, I've been good, or rather, as well as one can be with a pregnant Hightower sleeping in the same room." joked Aemon.

"HA! Just you wait till the little one comes along, then you'll have something to worry about!"

"I dare say that the world isn't ready for a child of both Hightower and Targaryen blood." japed Aemon before looking at Gerold in curiosity. "What are you doing out here?"

"I was on my way back from the Reach, I thought I'd stop by the Capitol and check in….where are you going with this lot?"

Aemon shrugged nonchalantly. "Business in the Westerlands, I need to pay a visit to Lord Tytos."

Gerold nodded and made a clicking sound with his tongue a few times before looking back at the young prince. "I don't suppose you could use some extra company on your trip?"

"By all means, the more the merrier!" announced Aemon happily.

And so Ser Gerold Hightower joined them on the ride through the Crownlands and into the west, more or less he and Aemon would mainly jape and drink together or point out the various landmarks to Aerys but one night while they had stopped at an inn to rest for the night Aemon urged Gerold over to a quiet corner away from the other guests and after pouring them both an ale, told him of the true nature of his journey.

"The Blackfyres have returned." He whispered. "The bastard has a horde from the east of sellswords and pirates and all manner of wretched scum. It isn't well known now but it will be soon enough, father is calling his banners and preparing for war."

Gerold to his credit didn't blink once at that and merely took a sip from his ale and belched lightly before nodded a little. "So you're to raise the Westerlords?"

"Aye, we need the Lannisters fleet if we're to have any hope at matching the Blackfyre ships before they reach Westeros."

Once again Gerold merely nodded before taking a sip of his ale. "Lord Tytos is a kind man, good natured, but he is also very weak. He'll not want to send his people to war, and I doubt they'd listen even if he asked them to."

Aemon gave a sigh of frustration and drummed the table with his fingers as he tried to work his head around the various politics of Lannister bannermen. "If I can convince the man that his lands are truly in danger then perhaps that will light a fire underneath his arse?"

"You'd only be speaking the truth. Maelys Blackfyre would had to have made all sorts of offers and promises to all of those hungry sell swords and cheesemongers, no doubt if he gained control of the Throne those Westerlords would be a lot less wealthy."

They sat in brooding silence after that and tried to think of way out of the storm that was coming for them. After a few hours of drinking and idol gossip Aemon retired upstairs and checked in on Aerys who was sleeping peacefully in his room while Ser Harlan stood guard at his door, after that he went to his own chambers and tried to let sleep take him.

* * *

Casterly Rock was every bit as formidable as the Lannisters made it out to be, with its rounded shape and thick walls of pure stone it was a natural fortress. However every time Aemon caught sight of the sparkling ocean in the distance he felt himself become uneasy with the thought that on the other side of that water was an entire army slowly approaching.

His worrying thoughts fell to the wayside when he and his entourage were greeted by lord Tytos and his eldest son Tywin. Aemon was a little surprised how two people can look so alike yet utterly different at the same time; the father and son both shared the same golden hair and sparkling green eyes and overall physical features, however while Lord Tytos stood and smiled happily as if he had just met a long lost friend, his boy stood beside him with an slight frown and foreboding look, as if he was mistrustful of their intentions.

"Prince Aemon! It's so good to see you again!" beamed the older man after he and his son gave a quick bow.

"And you, my lord. Your lands are quite beautiful." Replied Aemon respectfully.

Tytos' smile grew ever broader and he waved his arm across the horizon. "I've been blessed with much my prince, a good land, and a good people…but enough of my boasts, you're probably tired from such a long journey, we can discuss matters over dinner!"

Aemon nodded happily and with Aerys and Gerold at his side followed the Warden of the West back into his lair. The inner halls of the Rock were quite warm, and were ornately decorated with various golden framed paintings of Lannisters of old, each painting sat right above a large golden lion statuette and Aemon wondered briefly if it was family trait amongst the Lannisters to be so boastful. _It's no different from us with our dragon skulls…_

After a short pit stop to their rooms, Aemon and his companions were treated to a grand feast in the main hall of the Rock which seemed to be the centre of activity and splendour of the Lannister home. The Lion imagery seemed to even reach as far as the dinner table and chairs, Aemon was once again reminded of his family's own seat on Dragonstone.

The food was a large collection of fish, lobster, and an odd creature that Aemon vaguely thought was in some relation to a squid. Despite the exotic nature of the food it was quite tasty and even Aerys who was usually quite picky with his food asked for seconds.

"Quite a bounty you have here Lord Tytos, I don't think I've had as good a meal in quite some time." Remarked Aemon, politely.

Lannister broke out into one of his classic hearty grins and nodded back enthusiastically. "It's all the work of our fine fishermen; they toil day and night in those beautiful waters so that we may experience this lovely meal."

"That's actually something I wanted to discuss with you my lord, there's a…._naval _matter that we must needs discuss." said Aemon hesitantly.

After that a silence fell across the table and Aemon could almost feel the level of discomfort emanating from Tytos, whose eyes continually darted around the room in an effort to try and avoid the Targaryen's gave. Surprisingly it was the boy Tywin who spoke first.

"What do you want from my father?" the boy's tone was icy and his gaze challenging.

"Tywin!" snapped Tytos. "Why don't you escort prince Aerys around the Rock?"

The boy looked as if he wanted to say something then but merely gave a nod and looked over at Aerys. "This way my Prince." And with that the two children left the room, leaving only Tytos, Aemon and Gerold.

Tytos gave a deep sigh and looked over at Aemon with a rueful smile. "I've heard the news coming from Tyroshi prince Aemon; I know why you are here."

"Then things should be rather straightforward, we need your fleet." Cut in Gerold.

Tytos took a long and slow drink from his cup of wine before looking directly at Aemon. "You would command me to send my people to war, to a bloody death?"

"I'm _asking _you to help _save_ your people. As you yourself said; the Westerlands are prosperous…The Blackfyres will not hesitate to take away everything from your people in order to pay their own hired swords and you have a mighty fleet that could stop this madness before it even reaches our shores."

Tytos shifted in his seat again. "The Crown has House Lannister's support, I'd be more than happy to send what gold and provisions I could spare but…..these are my people. I can't just send them off to the slaughter."

He knew he could quite easily command this man to fall in line, perhaps even threaten to bring down his entire House for their defiance but Aemon brought his purple eyes to this Lord of Lannister sitting before him and suddenly realized something; the man cared. Truly, this highborn lord actually cared about the smallfolk who toiled in his fields and mines. _Use that…_

"Tytos…I'll be honest with you, I don't want to see this war happen anymore than you do. But it's not about what I want or what you want; it's about what's best for the realm. This darkness is coming for us all, and right now _you_ have the power to save thousands of innocent lives, for their sake please, help us."

The Lord of Lannister sat quietly for a long time and merely stared at the food sitting on the table before him, a solemn look on his usually cheerful face. Finally he gave a deep sigh and looked up at the young prince and spoke. "You have your fleet."


	5. Diplomacy

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Big thanks to Ramzes and Bess Woodville for the reviews, they keep me going!**

They were two days from the capitol when Aemon and his entourage came across a rider bearing the Targaryen sigil and a personal message from Jaehaerys which he timidly handed over to the young prince.

Aemon felt his stomach twist as he hastily read over his brother's finely written letter, a slight scowl crossing his face. He dismissed the rider and told his men to give him a meal and a place by their fire for his troubles before turning to Ser Harlan and Gerold. "It seems I'm needed in the Riverlands, I shall ride out on the morrow and send the rest of the company to escort Aerys back to Kings Landing, Ser Harlan, I'm afraid I may still have need of your blade."

"The Riverlands ey? You know I do fancy myself a fishermen." said Gerold with a lazy smile.

"You don't need to come if you don't want to, things in Oldtown-"

"Oldtown will still be there when I get back! Life on the open road is much more exciting than listening to my brother bark orders at me and Leyton." Cut in Gerold loudly, startling some of the nearby knights with the volume of his voice.

Aemon smiled back at his friend in appreciation before spotting his nephew running about with a wooden sword after Ser Gwayne Gaunt around the camp, the young white cloak laughing happily as the prince parred with him playfully before Aemon called the boy over. Aerys, upon hearing his uncle's voice came bolting up to the elder Targaryen excitedly.

"Did you see uncle? I nearly had him!" Aerys announced happily, a broad grin on his face.

"I did indeed; you've got quite a sword arm." replied Aemon before going down to one knee to look his nephew in the eye. "Now Aerys, I've been called off to do some very important business for your Grandfather but Ser Gwayne and the rest of these knights will take you back to the Red Keep, can you do me a favour and behave for them?"

"Why can't I come with you?" asked Aerys looking at Aemon as though he was being punished for some wrongdoing.

"Because it might be dangerous and you're much too important to be involved in such a matter." He said, trying to be as gentle as he could.

Aerys shook his head at that. "But what if you get hurt?" he asked desperately.

Gerold broke in then, his already towering form made all the bigger from their current level. "Don't worry my prince; I'll look after your uncle."

Aerys looked sullen but gave a nod before Ser Gwayne ushered the boy back to his tent. Aemon had tried not to hurt the boy's feelings too much but knew that he couldn't bring him along where he was headed, not if Jaehaerys' letter was right.

He gestured for Gerold and Ser Harlan to follow him back to his tent and once they entered Aemon collapsed into his chair and tiredly rubbed his face before looking over at the two knights sitting across from him.

It was Gerold who broke the silence first. "What's all this business in the Riverlands that's ruffled your feathers?"

Aemon gave a weary sigh before pouring himself a cup of cold water –wine would have only increased his agitation- and handed Gerold the letter his brother had sent. "It seems there's some trouble brewing just outside of Maidenpool, riots and dissention. Lord Tully's son is preparing to strike against this rabble of demagogues but my Father and brother would prefer I go and try to find a _diplomatic_ solution."

Gerold skimmed the letter to confirm what his friend had just said and gave a solemn nod after he was done. "Well I suppose we should waste no time in getting to Maidenpool then."

Ser Harlan, usually just a quiet fixture in the background, cut in then with an anxious look on his wrinkled face. "My prince, would it not be wiser to take a few more men besides the handful you've requested?"

"No, I don't want to give the impression that the crown is afraid of these upstarts, besides if worse comes to worst then I'll have Lord Tully's forces just a few miles away."

"As you say my prince." replied the White Cloak

Without meaning to, Aemon gave a great yawn and absently rubbed at his eyes tiredly, the long day of riding taking its toll. Gerold exchanged a glance with Ser Harlan and then rose to his feet. "I'll leave you to your rest; we'll talk again in the morning." And with that the big man left the tent and not long after Aemon wearily gave Ser Harlan leave to go.

Once he was alone Aemon stripped himself of his riding gear and fell onto his cot like sack of potatoes and stared up at the roof of his tent for a while as he tried to stop his racing thoughts as he felt the anxiety growing in his mind. It was nearly an hour and sleep didn't seem any closer, of course such experiences weren't new to Aemon; he had struggled with his sleeping for as long as he could remember and there were even times when it got to the point where he would spend days on end without even an hour's sleep. Finally Queen Rhae had had enough of her youngest son's suffering and had firmly told the Grand Maester that every hour Aemon stayed awake so would he, so from then on the young prince was given small amounts of dream wine every night before bed.

Inside the tent there was no such medicine, and the only rest he would get would be from the stillness of his mind so instead of allowing his thoughts and fears of Maidenpool to dominate his head, he instead thought of Alerie waiting back at Summerhall for him. His wife knew how to calm him like nothing else and it didn't take long before the thought of her warm embrace began to set his mind at ease and helped carrying him into the realm of sleep.

* * *

It had taken them three long days of hard riding before they were in sight of Maidenpool and they eagerly accepted the hospitality of the Tully's camp. As soon as Aemon dismounted he was met by two young men with auburn hair and bright blue eyes, both wearing the silver trout of House Tully across their armoured chests. The taller of the two brothers gave a deep bow and smiled at the prince with a look of extreme excitement on his youthful face.

"Prince Aemon, well met. I am Hoster of House Tully." announced the young man before gesturing to the shorter Tully standing beside him. "This is my brother Brynden."

Aemon shook hands with the Tully brothers before quickly scanning his surroundings; the camp was alive with activity as various soldiers got ready for what they assumed was to be a violent battle with the upstart rebels. He had no delusions about what was to come and knew that it was likely that he and the Tullys would have to put a great many people to the sword, yet he had to _try_ and make them see reason. _The Dragon should be a protector.…_

"Well met, though I wish it had been under better circumstances."

The elder Tully just smirked at that. "Not to worry my prince, we'll soon have these traitors dealt with and after House Tully is through with them none will even _consider_ rebellion again."

There was something Aemon did not like about the young man's attitude but tried to ignore it. "Well, I'd rather try something diplomatic before we rush into anything. Where are the rebels now?"

It was the younger brother who spoke up then, a much more solemn look on his face as he answered. "They're all gathered in the centre of town to listen to the leader-a bastard by the name of Sam Rivers-spout his anti-Targaryen sentiment." Then the young man hesitated before looking at Aemon with a pleading look. "They're just afraid my Prince, winter was hard on Maidenpool and many of them lost their families. It's just the bastard who's been stirring up trouble that's caused all of this."

"Forgive my brother, he is still green in the ways of the world." Cut in Hoster, shooting his brother a look of anger.

"It's quite alright. Though I think your brother has the right of it; we need to cut off the head of the snake to end this quickly." He told them firmly. "We should waste no time, I'll take my guards as well as ten of your best and ride out to treat with this Sam Waters and see if he knows when enough is enough."

The Tullys looked slightly flustered at his brazenness but did as they were commanded none the less and hurried off to bark orders for their men to mount up and begin to move out. Eventually Hoster returned with ten knights all standing proudly before the prince in their gilded armour that looked as if it hadn't even seen a day of combat.

They then mounted their horses and followed the two young Riverlords and their elite towards the outskirts of Maidenpool. Once the companions arrived at the small town they were greeted by a number of men armed with crossbows peering down at them from the ruins of some old fortress that appeared to have been haphazardly repaired.

Contrary to Aemon's expectations the rebels hardly looked like the warriors who had defied House Tully and the other Riverlords, instead the people guarding the town seemed as if they hadn't had good meal in days and their faces were marred with exhaustion as they stared down.

"NOT ONE MORE STEP!" shouted one of the men.

Hoster Tully looked up at the gaunt men aiming their crossbows at him with a look of utter disgust. "I am Hoster of House Tully, you men serve my father and in his name I order you to cease this madness!"

Instead of heeding their liege's heir the rebels broke out into a rapture of laughter at the young man's boldness. Aemon could see Hoster's face turning more and more crimson as they laughed at him so decided to act on his own and rode forward so that the crossbowmen could get a better look at him.

"I am Aemon of House Targaryen, son of Aegon the fifth of his name and your rightful king. I've come to treat with your leader, the one called Sam Rivers." He told them firmly, trying to act like the dragon that adorned his chestplate.

The crossbowmen all muttered to each other for a moment before one of them suddenly called back. "How can we be sure this isn't some kind of a trick?"

"We are less than twenty men, you have three hundred. How can we possibly pose a threat to you?"

A pause. Then "Alright, OPEN THE GATES!"

After that a flood of men swarmed out and trained their weapons onto the small group who gave no resistance as they were roughly led into the small town. As he walked through the mud and slush Aemon took note of various children who peered out at him from inside the small homes and buildings, all of them looking as gaunt and malnourished as the adults, some even sickly. _How is it that things have deteriorated so badly? My father would have made sure that those in his realm are cared for by their liege lords…_

Finally they came to the centre of town where it seemed everyone had gathered to watch someone speak from a platform, their eyes caught in rapt attention as the speaker shouted about the indignities that the smallfolk had suffered under the harsh liege. The man in question stood tall, almost as tall as Dunk did and seemed to be twice as muscular and fierce looking as the old Knight and looked as if he had been in some form of fire as much of the skin of his neck and head seemed distorted and burnt.

The man's beady eyes suddenly found the newcomers and he burst into laughter. "Well look at what the Seven have sought fit to give us! Two of the Trout's offspring and even one of the inbreed abominations from Kings Landing!"

"And you must be this Sam Rivers we've all been hearing so much about." Replied Aemon casually as he brought his purple eyes to the big man's black ones.

Rivers' rounded face twisted into something that may have been considered a smile and he flashed several rotten teeth as he spoke. "I'm flattered that you know of me princeling, have you come to see the show?"

Aemon swallowed his disgust and forced himself to keep eye contact with the man. "I've come to see if we can resolve this matter peacefully, I've been-"

"It's too late for peace Dragonspawn! The time for talk and negotiation ended when you lords took it upon yourselves to dominate and starve our people! When you taxed us until we had nothing and left us to die in the cold!" the crowd suddenly came alive around Aemon and begun shouting obscenities at the young prince and his companions, all the while Sam hadn't finished with his tirade. "You think you have the power over us don't you? But by my reckoning there's more of us then there is of you nobles. _We _are the strong ones; _we_ are the ones with the power AND WE'RE TAKING IT BACK!"

The crowd erupted in a violent cheer at the big man's words and the prisoners found themselves suddenly shaken and spat on as the mob of angry peasants grew more and more rabid at their leaders' words.

"We'll hang these fuckers over the walls as an example for all the other highborn fucks who thinks that they can keep us down any longer!" announced Sam happily.

"There are over a thousand men circling this town who will be more than happy to put you all to the sword. I beg you, see reason!" pleaded Aemon before being silenced by a sharp blow to the stomach, sending the young prince to his knees. He heard Ser Harlan struggle to get to him through the waves of people, but the old knight was overwhelmed before he could reach the prince as he struggled for air as blood ran from his mouth.

Sam looked down at Aemon with an expression of utmost disgust, his beady eyes trailing down the crumpled form "Do you think that I am not willing to lay down my life? Of course you wouldn't, you people have no idea what sacrifice means. I'll kill you last."

Suddenly the shouts were cut off from a booming voice who echoed out through the crowd. "If you're so damned selfless then fight _me!"_

If Aemon could have managed to stop himself from retching up blood he would have smiled as he heard Gerold's confident voice cut through the air and silence the ravings of those around him as they all looked to the Hightower knight and then back at Sam.

"Fight me, man on man." challenged Gerold again, this time with the other man's full attention. "That is, unless you're a _coward_ as well as a madman."

Sam Rivers scowled at that but then gave a bitter laugh. "You think me a fool? You who have the finest armour and steel gold can buy, it would not be fair."

"Believe me; I can kill you just as easily with my hands."

The crowd seemed to break out into a series of murmurs at that as they looked between the two big men standing ready to face each other; no doubt they found the idea of their leader and this highborn knight beating each other to death an entertaining premise. Eventually a few even began to call out that Sam needed to "show the nobles that they bleed just like the rest of us!" or to simply "kill him!"

Rivers began to look anxious but then nodded. "Alright then, if you're so eager to die then I'll oblige you. Right here, right now."

Several men came up and practically tore the armour from Gerold's chest and arms before pushing him towards Waters while the crowd gathered around in a large circle, howling and hollering like wild animals as the two men circled each other. Aemon felt a pair of hands pull him to his feet before he was trampled by the mob, he caught a glimpse of his saviour and found that it was none other than Brynden Tully who nodded to him anxiously.

Gerold continued to circle his opponent while Sam Rivers continued to shout all manner of taunts, trying his best to provoke Gerold into making a mistake fuelled by anger, yet it was all in vain as Hightower continued to move about as Rivers swung at him sluggishly. The bastard feigned right before striking Gerold with his left, catching the knight on the jaw, sending a trail of blood and spittle across the air.

It took less than a split second for Gerold to recover and sending a hard right into Rivers nose, stunning the bastard long enough for him to follow through with a swift jab in the ribs. Aemon felt like cheering as he watched his friend continue to press forward with a flurry of blows while Rivers struggled to keep his guard up, just barely swatting away every second or third hit.

Just as Gerold prepared to strike again, Rivers crashed his own forehead into Hightower's with a sickening thud that sent the knight to his knees as he struggled to keep his bearings. The crowd came alive upon seeing the noble brought to his knees and their cheers became more and more deafening as Rivers tackled the knight into the mud, using his own impressive body weight to hold down the struggling man as he laid punch after punch into his opponents face.

"HA! YOU SEE? YOU SEE HOW WEAK THEY ARE?" shouted Rivers as he continued his assault, provoking a cheer of agreement from the crowd.

Brynden looked at Aemon fearfully as they watched Gerold getting beaten to death, while the young prince didn't show it he was absolutely terrified as his best friend was slowing getting his head caved in by a madman and wished not for the first time that he was as strong as Duncan.

Rivers laughed madly as he looked around at the crowd cheering him on, revelling in the excitement and attention of it all when suddenly his laughs were silenced by a sharp uppercut to his jaw, slamming it shut with a sickening crack that stunned the big man long enough for Gerold to kick him off and quickly return to his feet.

The knight spat out a wad of blood as his black and blue face focused on the rising form of the bastard Sam Rivers, who began to laugh yet again as he rubbed at his jaw which was now absent three teeth. "Not bad…still…fight left…" he slurred madly.

"Shut up and fight."

And with that the two raced at each other, all sense of form or style gone as they unleashed all that they had on each other. Rivers gave a desperate roundhouse to Gerold's side leaving a purple bruise right where the man's kidney resided while Gerold continued to punch at the bastard's jaw, again and again and again until a sickening crunch echoed through the air.

Rivers jaw hung open in a way that did not at all look right and Aemon didn't have to be a Maester like his namesake to realise that Gerold had broken the madman's jaw. Before Sam could do anything but grasp at his jaw, Gerold rushed forward and gave a solid kick to the big man's side, sending him flat on his back. Kneeling down behind him so that the man's head was cradled in his arms, Gerold gave a sharp twist and let Rivers body fall inert into the mud as he got to his feet.

The crowd was now in absolute silence as they looked down at the broken body of their leader while Gerold hastily grabbed his armour back from one of the men and gestured for Aemon and the others to step forward. With his companions now at his side once again he looked at the crowd, the rebels who had threatened him and friends.

"This man was a liar; he took advantage of your misfortune and grief for his own ends." his loud voice was as strong as ever despite his bloody form. "You people have been through much and for that you have my sympathy and my word: Riverrun has not forgotten you, and we will ensure that you are given your dues…..but just remember the Iron Throne does not tolerate rebellion. Just ask your friend there." He said grimly as he gestured to the inert form of Sam Rivers.

When they had finally limped back to their waiting horses outside of Maidenpool Aemon helped his friend gingerly back into his armour, careful not to press it too tightly against his bruised body. The Tully brothers had graciously offered for them to feast back at Riverrun which the companions couldn't pass up given their haggard state.

As they rode onwards Gerold leaned over to Aemon with a lazily smile on his swollen face.

"Next time you can do the fighting and _I'll _be the negotiator."


	6. Omens

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who left a review! **

**_DUNCAN_**

The isle of Dragonstone had never been a lively place even during the time when the Targaryen dynasty had been at its prime and it's heirs proudly called the ancient castle of the dragon conquer their home. The place seemed perpetually gloomy and the smell of sulphur was overpowering even from sea, though Duncan supposed that the smell should be inviting to him, one of the dragon's own kin. _A dragon with the name of a man…_

The old castle was once to be Duncan's someday, back when he was still first in line for the throne before he had forsaken the damned chair in the name of the woman he loved. Now his ancestral seat belonged to Jaehaerys, though his brother seldom spent time in its cold and damp walls which would only quicken the death that had been patiently sitting by his side ever since the day he was born.

The ship his father had provided for him served him well enough on his trip, though the prince had to admit that he was not a great lover of the sea or its fickle nature and more than once he had to keep his head over the rail as he retched up his stomach's contents into the murky waters below. Thankfully the trip had not been too long and it was only a few days before he spotting the smoke that billowed from atop the Dragonmont. _Perhaps a grim omen _thought Duncan weakly.

He and his men were greeted by several knights wearing the red crab of House Celtigar, all of whom greeted Duncan with deep bows and low murmurs of 'my prince' and 'your grace'. Duncan had to stop himself from correcting them but never the less put on a false smile.

"Sers, would you be as kind as to take me to Lord Velaryon?" he told them stiffly, struggling to keep his cheerful demeanour up.

The men did as they were bid and lead Duncan and his two sworn shields through the large gates and up into the oppressive looking castle that was covered with all manner of stone monsters and dragons that had been carved into the stone centuries ago by his Valyrian ancestors.

The Celtigar men led him up along the massive staircase that wound its way up into the stone drum and up to the Chamber of the Painted Table where Aegon the conquer himself had carved out his original plans to take Westeros with his famous table that was shaped exactly into a perfect replica of the Seven Kingdoms. Duncan found his feet beginning to hurt around halfway up the great stairwell and had to pause and rub at them occasionally, despite the image it set with those around him. _Not very princely_ he thought to himself, a slight smile break out on his face. _When have I ever cared what other people thought anyway? If I did then I would have married the Blackfyre girl like father wanted and lived a life of misery and bitterness…_

Eventually they made it to the top Chamber and made their way inside. Lord Aelix Velaryon was sitting on the painted table searching thoroughly through some old book that he had resting over Lannisport, murmuring to himself as he quickly flicked through the pages with dissatisfaction before looking up in surprise at Duncan, his purple eyes gleaming as he hurried over to shake the Targaryen's hand.

"Prince Duncan, thank the seven that you came! We've had some disturbing reports lately and now this situation with the ship…" trailed off Aelix with a shake of his head, sending long tangled locks of silver hair backwards and forwards.

Aelix Velaryon was an odd fellow, more comfortable with books than with people and it was little wonder why he and Jaehaerys were friends. The man was also the brother to Jaehaerys late wife Velena and it seemed that after her death the two had only become closer, so much so that the man now kept Dragonstone for Duncan's ailing brother.

"Has he said anything else?" asked Duncan curtly, his impatience growing.

Aelix waved his silver mane again in the negative and waved over a serving boy from the corner and asked him to fetch the Maester. "He has been in and out of consciousness since he washed ashore, we were afraid he'd die of fever those first few nights, yet it seems the Seven still have use of him yet."

Duncan nodded but otherwise said nothing as he observed the table before him. He thought about the generations of Targaryen Dragonlords whom had lived on the godsforsaken rock which had sheltered them from the Doom, of all of those many lords what was it that made Aegon so special? Why did he choose to go against generations of compliancy? Despite the two of them choosing opposite directions Duncan felt a connection with his ancestor. _Neither of us settled for what our fathers chose for us…_

"Prince Duncan, are you all right?" asked Aelix from beside him, his purple eyes looking down at him in confusion.

"Don't…don't call me that. Duncan will suffice." Replied the young Targaryen tired as he dragged his gaze from the painted table and over to the castellan of Dragonstone.

The Velaryon looked at him as if he had grown a second head but eventually nodded. Not long after an old man with great bushy eyebrows wearing a Maester's chain came into the room and bowed expectantly at the two men. "You called for me my lord?"

"Is the prisoner lucid Maester Alyn?"

"He is, though…I do not think he'll live through the night my lord, the sea took its toll on his body." replied the old man with a hint of sadness.

Aelix turned to Duncan with a shrug of his shoulders. "I suppose we best speak with him now before it's too late."

And with that they ventured down the ridiculous amount of stairs deeper and deeper into the castle. It seemed that with every step they took the stones around them seemed to grow warmer and warmer as they neared the volcanic vents that lay underneath of the Dragonmont. Finally they came to a halt at one of the more dank areas of the dungeon and Aelix had one of the guards open the cell for them to enter. It wasn't a particularly large cell and there seemed to be more than a few rats hiding amongst the straw that littered the ground that was used for the makeshift bed for the prisoners.

Duncan could vaguely see a crouched figure in the far corner of the cell, and when they moved closer the figure recoiled in fear before Aelix raised his arms in peace before slowly edging closer. "We're not here to harm you; I just need you to tell the prince what you told me and the Maester."

The figure seemed to hesitate for a beat before slowly moving into the light. Duncan had to stop himself from gasping at the sight of the man, or rather child as he was; the boy looked to be no older than ten and he seemed to be half a skeleton with his bones looking as if they were fighting to break free of the skin.

"Why has this boy not been fed?" demanded Duncan, shooting Aelix and the Maester a hateful glare.

"My prince the boy has spent weeks at sea, he was mostly unconscious for the first few weeks and only recently awoken and even then we could only feed him a little before he would retch it back up. It can't be helped." replied Aelix, giving another of those annoying shrugs of his.

Duncan frowned but then turned back to the boy. "Lad, can you tell me how you came to be here?"

The child looked up at him with eyes that had sunken into his skull like face and seemed not to hear him at first but then his cracked lips began to form words and he croaked out his story. "We were coming back from Pentos, we…..delivered a load of wine to the Magister….father always sold wines to the Magister….back since before I was born…..we were sailing back to Kings Landing…we came across a ship…Father told us that it was just a merchant ship…but then they boarded…started killing everyone… had to hide…in the dingy…was so thirsty…."

"Tell him about the sail, what was on the sail?" urged Aelix from beside him.

"The sail….had a dragon….three heads….black….on red…"

Duncan felt a shiver run up his spine at that and he exchanged a look with Velaryon and was about to ask him something when the boy cut in again. "The man….he killed father….."

Duncan looked at the boy sharply. "Man? What man? Maelys? Was the man deformed lad?"

The boy however shook his head wearily and instead looked off at some apparition that only he could see. "The snake man…..the snake…" and with that exhaustion seemed to finally overtake him and the boy's eyes began to roll back into his head and he fell back against the wall of his cell.

Duncan studied the boy's form for a moment before stepping back out into the corridor with the Maester and Aelix, a troubled look on his dark features. What the boy had described was surely an attack by the Blackfyres, yet it seemed far too random and too needlessly violent, even for Maelys. _but perhaps it is one of the butchers from the East he brought with him…_He would have to tell his father and brothers everything he had just heard; perhaps they could make sense of it. _Gods help us all…._

* * *

**_ALERIE_**

The night air was rather warm and pleasant at Summerhall. The insects and frogs chirped away happily in a pleasant melody outside of Alerie and Aemon's bedroom window the slight breeze that blew in was comforting to Alerie as she slept peacefully beside her husband's warm and protective form. Alerie dreamt that she was back in Oldtown with her family swimming out in the ocean like they would often do when she was a small child before her father fell from his horse and broke his neck. It was beautiful and warm and just like all of her memories of the Hightower were on those days when she would allow herself the time to recollect.

Her reverie was shattered by the violent movements of Aemon beside her. When she woke she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked over at her husband's tense form. Whatever he was dreaming about it was troubling him, his face was scrunched up in a deep frown and aside from the tossing and turning he seemed to be muttering something to himself. Gently she reached down to wake him but suddenly he snapped up with a bloodcurdling scream and immediately began kicking the bed sheets off before he scrambled from the bed screaming in pain.

"What's the matter sweetling?" asked Alerie as she tried to approach before he let out another scream, his hands grasping at his face.

"It bit me! Gods it bit my eye! We're all going to burn!" he shouted rapidly, his voice sounding horribly unlike Aemon as his lilac eyes looked around the room in panic. He looked more like a rabid animal than her husband.

"It was just a dream sweetling, your face is fine. Please let me take you back to bed…" she tried, forcing herself to be as calm as she could for his sake, sheer terror overwhelming her as she watched him continue to rave about madly.

"He's coming for us…the Serpent is coming for us all!"


	7. Madness

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Big Thanks to Ramzes for the lovely reviews!**

In all of his many years as Egg's companion Dunk had never seen his friend in such an anxious state as he was when he called for a private meeting in his solar with Jaehaerys and himself. While Dunk was a few years Aegon's senior, he had never seen his friend look as _old_ as he did when he handed his son a crumbled letter that he had received from Storm's End.

"It's from Rhaelle" he told Dunk as he practically collapsed into a wicker chair. "she says that Alerie has fled to from Summerhall and taken refuge with her and Edric. She says…" but then the king's voice faltered and he looked up at Dunk with eyes that glistened with tears. "She says that he has gone _mad_. That he has holed himself into his study and hasn't left for weeks, and that he has been ranting and raving about some dream he had!"

Dunk looked at his friend cautiously. "Could it be that they merely had an argument? It's not uncommon between newlyweds…"

Aegon shook his head. "Alerie is not the sort of woman who would over exaggerate something like this, and Rhaelle says she was _terrified _Ser. The madness of my family…..my brothers, my uncle…it's always going to be with us isn't?" asked the King miserably.

The lord commander put a reassuring hand on Aegon's shoulder. "You and I both know that Aemon is nothing like Aerion; he'd never hurt anyone let alone his wife."

The King nodded to himself but rubbed at his eyes in exhaustion. Dunk wondered if he would sleep at all tonight.

"I'll go see him on the morrow." said Jaehaerys suddenly, causing both of the elder men to look up in surprise.

Aegon looked at his middle child sceptically; though he was smarter than nearly half the realm, Jaehaerys was almost as frail as a child and travelling left him exhausted and if the weather were not agreeable then he would likely be bedridden for days. Yet there was something in the young man's eyes, strength and wisdom that Dunk knew could be as powerful as any physical muscle.

"I can speak with him, talk sense into him." said the prince firmly.

Aegon leaned forward so that he could reach out and take his son's hand. "You don't know what state he'll be in, and travelling like that…"

Yet Jaehaerys would not be swayed. "It doesn't matter what state he is in; he's still my brother dammit and I'll not let my own infirmity stop me from helping him when he needs it."

Dunk beamed at the young man with pride before looking down at Aegon. "I could accompany him, perhaps we could even bring Aemon back to the Red Keep that way we could all watch him for any signs of….trouble."

Time seemed to stretch on in that moment as Aegon considered it all, his eyes closed as he struggled to deal with the load of grief that had been forced upon, especially now that the Blackfyres were on his doorstep. Finally he took a deep breath and stood, once again becoming the King and not just that concerned father and gave a deep nod to the both of them before walking from the room, and Dunk gave Jaehaerys a brief smile before quickly following his king out into the hallway.

* * *

They wasted no time in leaving the capitol and it seemed to Dunk that Jaehaerys had found himself possessed by fervour that he had not seen in the man for a long time. The prince was confined to a wheelhouse and was wrapped in several blankets to keep him warm, as they slowly rolled on out of the crowded streets of Kings Landing and into the rest of the Crownlands.

Aegon had told him to only take a handful of his most trusted knights, though Dunk had not wanted to take any of the Kingsguard away from him so he was forced to only bring a few of the gold cloaks that he personally knew. He also brought the newly knighted Barristan Selmy along with them, the young knight who proven himself to be not only a talent on the tourney fields but also the soul of chivalry and he had happily agreed when Dunk asked to help them.

The travelling was slow given Jaehaerys wheelhouse and they were all very anxious about what they expected to find at Summerhall yet Dunk was able to keep up a brave face and tried his best to keep the young prince's spirits raised with conversation.

"So I've heard that young Aerys has been keeping Ser Gwayne on his toes, I can only imagine the energy the boy will have once he grows." He stated happily through the window of Jaehaerys wheelhouse as he rode beside it.

Jaehaerys gave a small smile. "You did well when you appointed Ser Gwayne as his personal shield; Aerys is quite fond of him."

"Ser Gwayne comes from a large family; I think the young prince's company reminds him of his own brothers."

Jaehaerys nodded a little and laid his head back, his eyes closing as he tried to save his strength for what was awaiting them. Dunk turned his attention back to the road ahead let his own thoughts drift back to days long past and he allowed himself a small smile as he reminisced about the time he and Egg had once visited Dorne in the attempt to find the puppeteer Tanselle. That had been so long ago yet every now and then he thought back on the lovely girl who had painted his shield. _I never even touched her and still she remains in my thoughts…_

Dunk pondered much on his slow ride through the Crownlands; past friends, past foes and how far he had come since his childhood growing up in Flea Bottom. It all made his head hurt to think of the adventure his life had become but despite all the ups and downs he remained certain about one thing; he was Dunk the Lunk, and he protected his family.

* * *

They arrived at Summerhall on nightfall of the fourth day of riding and found that aside from their being no lord to greet them that most of the household was running just fine, though several of the servants came up to Dunk and Jaehaerys and told them of how Aemon had raged a storm a week past and had remained in his study locked away from the world while he brooded. Jaehaerys had exchanged a glance with the big knight, his big eyes full of worry as they went up to Aemon's study.

Dunk entered the room first and stifled a gasp as he saw the dozens of books that littered the floor, some of which were torn up. His eyes trailed the room until he came across the still figure sitting on a chair by the fireplace; Aemon seemed thinner then when Dunk last saw him, and his silver hair was in tangles around his face, his lilac eyes were underlined by dark bags of exhaustion and Dunk wondered how little he had slept recently.

"Aemon….it's me, Duncan….are you alright lad?" he asked cautiously.

If the prince heard him he showed little reaction as he continued to gaze into the flames that danced in his hearth and if not for the subtle rise and fall of his chest Dunk wouldn't have been sure if he was alive or not. After a moment he began muttering something. "I saw a river of blood that was home to a fell beast that had the realm in its coils. I saw fire consume my home" he waved his arm about. "_This_ home."

Jaehaerys calmly walked forward and went to his brother's side. " I'll wager you did not see me in your dream."

Aemon suddenly broke from his gaze from the fire and stared intently at his older brother with a look of confusion. "What do you know?"

Jaehaerys seemed to consider what his answer would be for a few moments before he leant forwards and whispered something in his brother's ear that Dunk couldn't quite hear but judging by the shocked look on the young prince's face it was something important. They continued to speak together in hushed tones until finally Dunk gave an audible cough to get their attention. "My prince, you cannot stay here like this, you have to come back to Kings Landing with me and Jaehaerys, your father is worried."

"He is right Aemon, brooding here will do you no good." said Jaehaerys firmly.

Aemon seemed to finally look at the state he had left his study and his eyes grew large with fear and shock as he realised the ordeal he had caused. "….I think I may have frightened Alerie….is she alright?" asked Aemon as a look of shame and concern came over his pallid face.

Dunk put a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder. "She's at Storm's End with the princess; she's fine, though I daresay an apology is in order."

After that Dunk had commanded the servants to ready prince Aemon's thing for departure while Jaehaerys stayed and tried to keep his younger brother calm and in a relatively placid state. It occurred to Dunk that he wasn't sure when the prince would be ready to return to Summerhall and that it was up to him to appoint a castellan for the castle until something could be worked out.

He inspected the household knights that currently served at the old keep and after questioning many of them himself he was able to settle on an older man by the name of Ser Robert Oswyck whom had served as the master at arms for the castle for nearly five years. Dunk knew that despite his age the old man could wield a sword well enough and he had a strong loyalty to the Prince and lady wife which would be vital if any Blackfyre men were to attack them before the Crown could arrange something, though he could only pray that it never came to that, for all their sakes.

* * *

_A few days later…_

Dunk had taken it upon himself to greet the Princess when she arrived in the Capitol alongside Lady Alerie and had briskly informed them that the King had the rest of the royal family waiting in his solar and that they should waste no time in joining them. Rhaelle had of course been quite fierce in her questioning of him as they walked the halls of the Red Keep but Dunk offered her little explanation as he had none for himself.

When they neared the chambers he turned to Lady Alerie and gave her a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry my lady but for now you'll have to wait in the other room, the King would just like to speak with his children."

Her expression turned to one of outrage at that. "What do you mean I can't go in? My husband, whom might I add, I haven't seen in weeks is in that room! I don't give a fig if he is the King but I'm-"

Dunk cut her off. "Peace my lady, the King merely wishes to address his children for a moment and then you can speak with Prince Aemon alone, it'll only be for a moment I promise."

She didn't seem happy at all with that but said nothing else on the matter and did as he had asked and walked into the opposite room while he and Rhaelle walked on alone. Dunk could almost feel the daggers the princess was glaring at him but tried his best to ignore it as they entered the King's solar.

The first thing Dunk noticed was how anxious they all seemed. Aegon stood rigidly by his desk, his face pressed into a deep frown as he watched them come in while Jaehaerys stood by a bookcase and was dutifully putting away a number of old tomes back into their homes, the prince was completely focused on his task which Dunk knew to be his own way of dealing with stress. Duncan stood to his father's right and gave a weary smile when he saw the two of them enter the room but his attention seemed to be constantly drifting over to the figure sitting by the fireplace. It took a few seconds to realise that it was Aemon who was huddled in a large chair wrapped up in a blanket, the youngest prince looked deathly pale and his lilac eyes seemed like they were having difficulty staying open.

As soon as the princess saw her brother's form she rushed over and held him against her, rocking ever so slightly. "Oh gods Aemon, what's happened?"

Aemon seemed like he was struggling with tears as he clung to his big sister desperately, his face pressed against her shoulder. "It was…a very bad dream." he croaked, it seemed like he was going to ramble again but Rhaelle quickly shushed him and continued to hold him.

Dunk was somewhat amazed at how easily the princess was calming her distressed brother. _They have always been close_ he reminded himself. While the two did tend to bicker away at each other more than anyone else in the family, Dunk knew that Rhaelle was fiercely protective of her youngest brother._ But can she protect him from himself? _He tried to push the traitorous thoughts away, Egg needed his support not his doubts.

Aegon cleared his throat, causing them all to look his way. "Now that we're here, I suppose I should tell you what's what. Duncan has brought back grim news from Dragonstone which my scouts from Pentos have confirmed; the Band of Nine has recruited the pirate lords from the Step stones into their army."

"How many of them?" asked Rhaelle anxiously.

The look Aegon gave her was dark. "All of them. Every single pirate fleet from the Step Stones to the Summer Isles have joined with him and his Tyroshi lords, forming a fleet that may be far larger than any we have ever faced."

The room went deathly silent after that as the depth of Aegon's revelation set in. Each of the children aside from Duncan seemed as if they had been physically struck by the news. _Of course they're afraid, they're all too young to remember what it was like in the old days, the days when war and rebellion were commonplace._ The big knight loved each of them as if they were his own blood but even he had to admit that this was a long overdue event.

He spoke up for the first time. "How has Maelys managed to get them cooperate? Many of those different fleets would be mortal enemies."

Duncan spoke then, his usually cheerful expression long gone. "There are rumours of a new pirate king who has emerged from that hive of foulness and managed to unit them into a single force though none have been able to identify him."

"Either way it makes no difference, they will come for us from the Step Stones and they'll hit us in force. I've spoken to my council and they all agree, for once, that this is not something that the crown can handle on its own. There must be unity; we must rally our forces from Dorne to the Wall to stop them in their tracks before they can attack us. Ravens have gone out to every corner of the realm; the Wardens of the North, South, East and West are to strike their banners to form a single army, a single kingdom. Westeros is going to war."


	8. Monstrous

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Thanks again to Ramzes for the reviews, they do keep me going.**

**_ADDAM _**

The King remained completely still as he heard the news. His face, or rather his main face, showed no visible reaction at the news, not even a look of cruel happiness or disdain that were so often displayed on his broad face. "This has been confirmed? Not just a rumour?" he asked.

"Our spies have seen the man in person, your grace," said Jared the Blue. "They say that Aemon Targaryen has gone quite mad and had to be kept in Maegor's holdfast under his father's supervision."

_One less usurper for the King to deal with, _thought Addam. _Mayhaps the gods are looking kindly on us again. _He could still remember the look of disgust on his father's face as he described how Daeron the bastard had treacherously murdered their kin during the battle of Redgrass field, how Daemon Blackfyre, the king's true son had died trying save his children. The thought of it made his stomach turn.

"It's to be expected from that lot; you breed with a mongrel and you birth a mongrel, the line of Daeron has been doomed with this madness for years, it runs thick and black within their blood." The Ebon Prince declared.

"It's only a matter of time before they all die screaming like that fool Aerion Brightflame." agreed Ser Hector Harrow, a tall man with buck teeth and a pointed beard.

"Are you touched in the head Ser?" asked Maelys. "That creature is but one of the many abominations still sitting on my throne, not to mention their pet Baratheon that Aegon bought using his whore of a daughter. One madman has not crippled them nearly as much as you think."

"His only other heir is the cripple and that other fool has forsaken the crown so that he may lie with some lowborn cunt, your grace his line is at the end of its rope." laughed Ser Jared smugly.

"If you talk out of turn again Ser it will be _you_ who hangs from the end of a rope." Maelys looked down at the map of the Seven Kingdoms that had been laid out on his table. "Aegon will be preoccupied with his whelps in the capitol, while Baratheon has his forces on alert in the Stormlands, the lords of the Reach and those Dornish scum will be waiting on the bastard's beck and call. Attack from there would be….difficult." He looked up at those sitting across from him. "We must needs gain a political foothold in the North; it is isolated enough from everything else that Aegon's sway will mean little and those Reavers from the Iron Islands have little love for the Targaryen rule….mayhaps we could strike up an alliance."

"We should send the pirate lord out ahead to do some reaving of his own, his men grow restless." the Ebon Prince's skin shined like oil in the candle light and his golden eyes smirked with some hidden laughter.

"That one is as slippery as the beast he takes for his sigil." grunted Maelys.

"Aye, he is. But the man is force to be reckoned with in the sea and the only one holding those pirate bands together." The Ebon prince's voice was like silk. "Unleash them on Oldtown and twist the dagger in Aegon's heart."

"Oldtown?" asked the King wearily.

"Aye, it is one greatest cities in Westeros and a proud jewel of the realm though it's defences have grown lax as of late. Send the Pirate lord to show those fat and gluttonous traitors that they are not half as safe as they think."

Maelys did not look at the man, choosing to instead focus on the map again. "Such a strike would require many ships."

The Ebon prince waved his hand dismissively. "Pirate ships, of those we have many. Didn't you yourself say that these pirates are more bloodhounds than men? If they die then at least they will die with their jaws around the throat of your enemy."

_You mean around the throat of innocents you can steal from. _"Your Grace," urged Addam. "Might I speak?"

Maelys broad, flat face seemed to soften at the sound of the knight's voice. "Speak."

Addam took a breath. _I must be careful here or else I'll have that mad summer islander after me._ "Your Grace, I agree that we should strike at the Targaryens, but to loosen the pirates upon Oldtown…it is an evil thing."

The Ebon Prince laughed. "This is war Ser Addam; would you have us attack our enemies with sharp words and insults?"

"Few men know war as I have my lord, but there is a difference between killing a shipload of soldiers and raping and butchering a city of old men and Septons."

"Oldtown did not come to the Blackfyres aid during the time of Daemon, and they have continued to serve the line of Daeron." replied the summer islander with a smug grin. Addam wanted to smash the grin off his face with the hilt of his sword.

Instead of continuing to picker with the man he turned his attention back to Maelys, looking the big man in his purple eyes. "A Maester serves the castle, despite the lord who runs it. Your Grace this is not the way…"

The Ebon Prince made to speak once more but Maelys raised his mailed hand to silence him, the big man looked down at his map of Westeros once more and considered for a few moments, his fingers tracing lines across the coastline of the Sunset Sea. Whatever was going through the Blackfyre's mind was a mystery to all in the room as his face was completely blank, after a time he finally spoke.

"We shall send the pirates to Lannisport." He said firmly. "Tytos Lannister can watch as the Serpent devours his fleet, and while his gaze is fixed we shall send an envoy north to treat with the Greyjoys."

Ser Hector smiled at that, flashing his large rodent like teeth around. "An excellent idea your Grace."

"Excellent." parroted Ser Jared.

The Ebon Prince sneered at them all. "Surely you aren't going to base your entire strategy around the council of a glorified bodyguard?"

Maelys nostrils flared at that and the big man looked as if he would have happily throttled the summer islander but instead he merely stood from his table, towering over everyone else. "Get out, all of you." he said in a deathly calm voice, his purple eyes not once leaving the Ebon Prince's.

The two knights rose to their feet quickly enough and hurriedly rolled up the maps they had brought with them and fled the tent while the Ebon Prince took his time in leaving his seat, an eerie smile on his face as he looked at the king before slowly strutting out as if he had just won a game of Cyvasse. Addam made to follow them only to be stopped up by Maelys.

"A moment Ser." The king was frowning, which was not an uncommon sight with the much maligned leader of the Golden Company.

Addam could still remember when he first met the king so many years ago. He was only a boy of three and ten when he saw his first battle while serving as a squire to his father during one of the Golden Company's many conflicts in the Disputed Lands against the Norvosi. He was so frightened when they marched onto that field and saw the thousand screaming warriors come charging that he actually pissed himself, but he made sure to stick by his father through the thick of it. That was, until his father had his head cleaved off by one of the Norvosi bearded priests and he was left amidst a slaughter helpless as a newborn pup.

He had _tried_ to take on the bearded warrior himself, yet his feeble attempts at combat had proved ineffective against the giant axe of his opponent and he quickly found himself bleeding in the mud as the Norvosi stood above him and raised his axe for the killing blow, yet it never came. The priest had found himself run through by a spear that pierced right through the bearded warrior's throat and before Addam knew it he was roughly pulled to his feet by a bull of a man with hair that looked as though it were spun of silver and eyes that burned with a violet fire. The man, or creature or whatever he was had pushed a sword in Addam's hands and hacked away at the snarling enemies that surrounded them in a grand display and in his fury he gave Addam the confidence to fight back, to survive and the two had carved a path through the enemy ranks. After the battle had been won Addam followed the Blackfyre around and had admitted to the frightening man that he had nothing else left and Maelys had announced then and there that he would serve as his squire, in many years since then he had done everything he could for the man who had saved his life.

"You must be careful around those people, certain of them would happily slit your throat in your sleep if they so desired." said Maelys in a dark voice, his expression a mixture of concern and anger.

"But you are the King…"

"Aye, the true king of Westeros but these men are _not_ Westerosi and are not bound to follow my every whim, a necessary evil I fear."

Addam frowned. "Your Grace, you once told me that I should always speak my mind and I'm speaking it now; these men cannot be trusted, at least not with the sake of the realm."

"I cannot take the Iron throne without their support." The king spoke as if he grudged each word.

Addam persisted. "Surely there are other ways-"

"There are not!" roared Maelys. "I am no fool Ser, I know what others think of me, how they whisper the word '_Kinslayer'_ behind my back. I'll find no support among the beautiful lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms, the Gods in their cruel wisdom saw to that when they made me."

The tent was silent as a crypt then as Maelys fell into one of his sullen moods. Addam knew that the king constantly shouldered an extreme amount of hidden pain that had been built from years of fear, hatred, and a deep disgust from those around him. _Even his own lady mother had tried to snuff his life out when she saw what she had birthed…_

_"_Why did you join my Kingsguard Addam?" asked the king after a time, his broad face in an expression of weary confusion. "You could have had a wife, a son to carry your name on and you threw it all away."

Addam smiled. "My name isn't anything worth much sire, and besides my place is here as your sworn sword like it has always been. I swore an oath."

Maelys gave a bitter laugh at that. "An oath, would that I had a thousand men who take their oaths as serious as you Ser and I'd have already won this damned war."

"Aye, but until such men arrive I shall continue to serve Your Grace."

The king looked down at the map on his table once again and without looking up waved his hand. "Go get some sleep; if you're to serve then I need my white cloak rested for the coming battle."

Addam gave a stiff bow and walked from the tent, his thoughts drifting. The king was a violent man and with a temper that few could match yet the young knight knew in his heart of hearts that Maelys Blackfyre was the true king and that Westeros desperately needed his justice if it was to survive. He could still remember that axe severing his father's head, how he felt the Stranger sitting beside him ready to bring him into its embrace before Maelys gave him the strength to live again. _Aegon may call him Maelys the Monstrous but he'll always be Maelys the Merciful in truth…_


	9. Pieces

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Thanks again to Ramzes for the reviews, they keep me inspired!**

**DUNCAN**

"Has there been any improvement?"

Rhaelle sounded as though she was trying her best to sound nonchalant about the whole thing but Duncan could detect the heavy undertone of anxiety in her singsong voice. _She should know by now that she doesn't have to pretend to be strong, not when it's just us _thought Duncan sadly.

Alerie frowned a little and drank from the tea sitting in front of her. "He….has been much calmer lately, he spends most of his time reading….though he still won't let himself sleep, he says…" Alerie's voice caught and she struggled for her words before taking a deep breath and looking back them. "He says that the…_visions_ come to him when he sleeps. Sometimes he'll go days on end without sleeping, me and the Grand Maester have been slipping him something with his wine at night to allow him to rest."

Duncan exchanged a worried glance with his sister before turning back to Alerie. "Does he say anything, anything of sense?"

Alerie actually seemed angry at that and shot Duncan a scowl. "Of course he does! He hasn't lost his wits!"

The young prince raised his hands in peace. "Forgive me my lady, it's just…..we're concerned is all; Aemon is our baby brother and we don't want him to suffer the same way others in our family have."

He could see that he was just making the poor women more worried so he excused himself from the table, leaving Rhaelle to comfort her while he searched out his father. The King had spent little time alone now that he knew that a fleet twice the size of the crown's was slowly making its way to the realm. Preparations were being made and the Wardens had been alerted though the king was still unsure of if their loyalty was enough to cause them to leave their homes and fight an angry horde of pirates and mercenaries.

Aegon sat in the council chambers with Jaehaerys as always acting as his right hand while he and Lord Arryn discussed whether or not they could afford to send any ships along the coast of Dorne considering that the Martells had almost no naval power of their own.

"I could send perhaps a dozen ships to provide at least some protection your Grace, though I'm not sure how much it will really do." replied Jasper Arryn.

"Even the smallest gesture can mean a lot, especially in these difficult times." He then spotted Duncan and waved him over. "What do you need Duncan?"

The prince looked over at the King's Hand hesitantly, a look which Aegon caught onto and asked Lord Arryn for a moment alone with his sons. Once the room was cleared Duncan gave voice to what had been troubling him. "We need to talk about Aemon…"

The King clenched his jaw at that. "Aemon is being looked after."

"We haven't seen him in a week!" said Duncan in outrage.

"He needs time to recover, he's in a fragile state right now and even the slightest thing could set off another episode." replied Aegon as though he was explaining to an unruly child.

"He's my brother-"

"He's my _SON!_" roared the king in a voice that Duncan had never in all his life heard coming from his father. "I've _seen_ what madness does to our family firsthand Duncan, I watched as my brother did his best to harm everyone and anyone around him because he thought he was a damned dragon trapped in human form, I grew up watching my uncle dance around naked because he saw and heard people who didn't exist. Now the Gods in their cruelty see fit to inflict the sickness onto my youngest, unto your brother…I will _not_ let him suffer as they did."

Before Duncan could say anything Jaehaerys seemed to appear from thin air and was immediately between them, his large purple eyes imploring them to calm down. "Father, Duncan has a point; we cannot keep Aemon locked away from the harshness of life, especially with the Blackfyres at our doorstep."

The King slowly moved into his chair and buried his face in his hands. _He looks tired_ thought Duncan as he sadly watched his father struggle to retain his composure in spite of everything that had happened. When his father spoke it was barely above a whisper and he struggled to hear it. "I failed her; I promised Rhae that I would look after you all and….I failed her."

Duncan was kneeling at his father's side in an instant and he took the older man's hand into his own and looked hard at the king, his expression firm and without fear or doubt. "Maelys, the war, you're not blame for any of it father, not a bit. And Aemon…we will _all_ look after Aemon, good or bad we will stay together through it all."

Suddenly the chamber door burst open and a small crowed of knights and council members rushed into the room being led by Jasper Arryn, a haunted look on his face. Aegon almost immediately rose to his feet and fully regained his kingly composure. Duncan was caught off guard by just how alarmed all of the various lords were looking.

"What is it, why do you all stand and gape like fools?" asked Aegon anxiously.

"Your Grace we just received a raven from lord Tytos….Lannisport is burning."

* * *

**ALERIE**

Alerie's day hadn't exactly gone as she would have liked. For starters she had to endure the various meetings with Maesters coming in and out of the chambers she and Aemon shared at the early hours of the day. At first she hadn't minded at all and had readily answered all of their questions about her husband's routine but after six days and little progress she was beginning to lose patience.

Her days at court were little better especially with the rumours that were circulating about Aemon. It seemed that many of the lords and ladies had found it most interesting that yet another Targaryen had lost his mind and some even had made questions about her own child's future sanity, though of course now they only spoke such things in low whispers. Alerie wasn't sure if that was out of respect of the much loved king or simply because that was how things were when it came to the royal family, more often than not she found herself feeling desperately homesick for Oldtown, for the Hightower and even for Summerhall but she knew that her place was at Aemon's side. _I said the words, I am his and he is mine…_

The physical strain was also something that she found exceedingly tiresome, now more than ever that she was almost due to give birth and her mobility wasn't what it used to be. Her ankles had swollen considerably too and even walking to lunch with Rhaelle had been difficult and aggravating.

As Alerie made her way back to her chambers she sent off her handmaidens and stood in front of the large wooden door and took deep breath before entering, anxious to see what state her husband would be in today. _Please let him be himself_ she prayed silently as she walked into their room.

Her search didn't take long as she found Aemon sitting at a desk looking over a map of some sort; every so often he would circle certain areas with a pen before crossing them off in agitation. Alerie took a breath and stepped forth, careful to make her presence known but not to get too close in case he would react violently like he did during his first episode.

Aemon stopped his scribbling and looked up at her with a weary smile. The first thing Alerie noticed was the dark bags that hung underneath his eyes from the lack of sleep he was getting, the other was the small silvery gold stubble that had formed around his jaw. Despite his dishevelled look his voice was surprisingly warm. "Sweetling…"

He rose from his seat and gave her a kiss with slightly more life than she had expected. "How were things at court?" he asked lightly.

"The same as ever; a bunch of arrogant lords and ladies complaining about each other whenever someone's back is turned, I had only Rhaelle to keep me company." She paused. "Have you been….well?"

Aemon winced slightly at her words but continued to hold his tired smile in place. "I've had the Grand Maester in here all morning asking me all sorts of questions, what do I eat, and what do I drink." He laughed a little. "He even asked when I go to the privy, it's all so bizarre."

"I'm sure they have their reasons."

A dark look came over his face then and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "He asked me if I….ever felt the urge to burn things."

Alerie had no idea what to say to that and tried not let her fear get the better of. _You've been married to him for two years! He would never harm you_ she tried reassuring herself despite the horrible feeling of anxiousness.

"Is that what they all say about me? That I am Aerion Brightflame come again?" he asked despondently.

Alerie shook her head violently, trying to believe her own lie. "No my love, they just…people are concerned knowing that their prince is…unwell."

Her husband looked absolutely miserable then and she felt her heart break as he sullenly turned away from her and stared back at the map sitting on his desk. "I'm sure my family will want you to sup with them tonight, don't feel that you have to stay here out of obligation. The madman will be fine without a caretaker for the night." He said miserably without looking back at her.

"Oh don't speak that way!" she said suddenly finding herself angry at how he had allowed melancholy overcome him. "Has it not occurred to you that I _want _to be with you? Or have you let sleep deprivation rob you of common sense?"

Hesitantly Aemon looked back at his wife, a stunned expression on his pallid face. Before he could say anything Alerie marched up to him a brought him into a deep kiss full of all the passion she had to repress for the last few weeks and felt as though she was the dragon not him and filled him with her fire. With a fury she didn't know that either of them possessed they slowly tore at each other's clothes and slowly headed towards their bedroom, the thought of supper long gone.

* * *

**BARRISTAN**

The Hightower man was humming tunelessly to himself from his horse as he escorted Barristan towards the inn. He was unsure originally whether he could trust the bald man when he came to him late at night in a tavern claiming to be on a mission from the royal family but once he saw a letter sealed with the three headed dragon of Targaryen he was more willing to comply with the man despite knowing next to nothing. In truth all that he knew was that he was to follow the bald knight to a particular inn just outside of the capitol and wait for someone.

"When we enter the place I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't speak to anyone or do anything that would attract attention, is that clear boy?" said the bald man.

Barristan didn't like the way the knight spoke to him but nodded his head none the less. "Will we be waiting long?" he asked.

The knight gave no answer but instead urged his horse over to the side of the large building and hitched it over to a post while Barristan did the same. He hesitantly followed the man into the warmth of the inn; the room was alive with noise and merriment as patrons drank and laughed at everything and anything. Barristan wasn't usually one for the drink, at least not to the extent that most indulged in.

The bald man led him over to a table near the back away from prying eyes and told him to wait while he went to speak with someone. Barristan picked the chair nearest the hearth and stretched out his legs under the table, leaning his head back and listening to the various discussions going on behind him.

"Did you hear the news? Lannisport is under attack!"

"Aye, they say that it's the Blackfyres again."

"I heard a Braavosi sailor say that Maelys Blackfyre consumed his brother in the womb and has two heads!"

Barristan frowned at that. He wondered if such a thing truly did exist in the world, and how any man could live in a state like that with their form twisted in such a way. _Only the Gods in their cruel wisdom know for sure, Mother have mercy._

The bald man returned with two men bearing the sigil of House Hightower along with a hooded figure. Barristan sat up straight and looked over at them expectantly as they pulled up seats across from him; the man draped in a dark cloak leant forward and lifted his hood just enough so that Barristan could catch a glimpse at the familiar set of purple eyes looking back at him.

"Greetings Ser." came the hushed voice of Aemon Targaryen.

Barristan stared at the man in shock. "My prince, I…." he started only to be cut off by the Targaryen's raised hand.

"Please not here Ser; we're trying to keep a low profile." said the prince with a slight smile.

The prince seemed to be in much better health than when Barristan had last seen him two weeks past, with more colour returning to his face and a less overall haggard look to the man, though the young knight could still see some traces of exhaustion around the prince's eyes.

"I must apologise for the secrecy involved here but these are difficult times my friend, one never knows who is a spy anymore." explained Aemon before looking around as if to emphasise his point.

Barristan looked at the man cautiously. "May I ask what this is all about my prince? I was told by your man here that I was required in a matter for the crown."

The prince nodded. "Aye, though I must warn you that what I am asking of you has not been sanctioned by my father, nor does he know about it or even that I am outside of the Red Keep. Is that something that you can go along with?"

The young knight frowned at that and gave the prince a searching look. The Targaryen did seem to be in a much better state than he was at Summerhall yet Barristan still couldn't help but think back to the state he was in when they found him brooding in his study, could he really trust a man who couldn't even trust his own mind?

"I am loyal to the crown my prince it's just…"

"It's just that you're unsure of my state of mind." finished Aemon with a rueful smile.

Barristan shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "…yes, that is my concern."

Aemon's smile did not shrink and he nodded at Barristan's words. "I understand. I'll be the first to admit that I have been…unwell, and, if I am to be honest with you Ser, it is likely that I will suffer another episode as I did at Summerhall." A deep look of shame flashed over the man's face as he said that before he looked up at Barristan with a determined expression. "My brother Jaehaerys and I have come across information vital to the war, while the King and my brother Duncan head to Lannisport to assist lord Tytos, the Blackfyres are sending an envoy to Quenton Greyjoy to try and gain the Ironborn's support against the crown, I mean to get there first."

"You mean to travel to Pyke?" asked Barristan in disbelief.

Aemon gave a solemn nod. "I do." He looked at Barristan again and sighed. "If you cannot trust my judgement Ser then at least trust that of my brother Jaehaerys."

Barristan looked hard at the man sitting before him and tried look for any hint of a lie or even malicious intent lurking behind his lilac eyes and found none. _But that's the trouble with madmen, they believe their own lies_. The thought made him uncomfortable yet he remembered all the times he had faced off against the prince during tourneys and thought of how highly even Ser Duncan the Tall spoke of the prince and after a time he finally made his decision. "I will join you. But I must ask….why are _you_ coming? Why not send a member of the Kingsguard?"

Aemon smiled at that. "Because, two night's past I fell asleep in the arms of my wife and I let sleep overcome me. For the first time my dreams were not that of fire and death…..they were of victory."


	10. Lannisport

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: As always, thanks to Ramzes!**

**DUNK**

Fire had consumed much of the city by the time they arrived at Lannisport. Never in his life had Dunk ever seen such a display, with the glowing orange flames weaving over the dark blue waters of the sea just as the sun was setting, if he hadn't known that thousands were dying he would have almost thought it beautiful. A shiver ran down his spine _our men are sailing towards that…._

Runceford Redwyne the Master of Ships had been given the task to lead the royal fleet into battle , though since the crown had been caught so off guard by the sudden and furious nature of the assault the Royal fleet had been haphazardly cobbled together from what few ships they had at King's Landing and Dragonstone when Tytos Lannister called for aid.

Prince Duncan was travelling with his father west with some three thousand men while Dunk went ahead with a small coalition of light infantry to try and help reinforce what few Lannister men that were protecting the city from the raiding pirates and judging by the state of confusion and mass hysteria that wasn't going to be an easy thing.

Dunk pulled out a myrish glass to get a better look at what he and his men were going into; from what he could tell the city guard had managed to keep the pirates contained on the docks but it seemed that their outer defences wouldn't hold for much longer. He looked back at the thirteen hundred men he had with him; they were a motley crew of Kingsguard, hedge knights and peasant militia. _Not much, but I of all men should know the worth of those born bellow station…_

"Men! We're to make our way into the centre of the city and converge with the red cloaks and then hold the city until King Aegon can arrive." He took a deep breath and looked at the hundreds of faces looking back at him, something which oddly comforted him. "Murders, rapists, criminals; these are the men we face, these are the men that seek to butcher the Westermen and their children. I am no holy man…but the Septon's say that the Seven are but different aspects of the same god! Well I say it is the same with our kingdoms, we are seven, we are one…those people being raped and burnt they are _YOUR _people! They are _OUR_ people! Tonight let's show these bastards how Westeros defends its own!"

A cheer went up amongst the men and with that Dunk turned his horse and unsheathed his sword and rode onwards followed by his soldiers as they went head first into the screaming hellfire before them. The further they rode the more smoke began to billow forward, stinging their eyes and filling their lungs, yet Dunk did not let that deter him as he pushed forward and forward through the abandoned streets until finally they were relieved for a moment as they entered the city centre where the inhabitants had been crowded.

The people looked up and began murmuring amongst each other as they saw the men ride in led by a white, or rather grey now that he had ridden through the soot, knight. He saw several of the city guard building up blockades along the streets using whatever they could find in preparation for the coming assault and rode over to them. "Who is in charge here?"

A young man with Golden hair came forwards, his arm in a sling. "I am Ser, Tion Lannister of Lannisport…or whatever is left of it."

Dunk glanced down at the man's injured arm. "How bad?"

"Broken, though mercifully it wasn't my sword arm, I got off easy compared to many of the people here." he replied, looking around at the terrified civilians. "They've breached our defences; bastards are entering the inner city."

The big knight cursed under his breath. "Is there any way to keep evacuating the people?"

Tion Lannister shook his golden head. "No time; too many people and the fires will only slow their movement, and the pirates would cut them down."

He looked around briefly as he tried to think of a possible solution, any alternative to leading his men against the horde yet none could be found, at least none that could keep the people safe from the reavers. "Take me to the defences." He said after dismounting.

The Lannister man nodded and led Dunk and a few of his men down one of the deserted streets, the sound of drums slowly growing more and more intense until they came to a tall and heavily fortified gate that was surrounded by many tired looking red cloaks and the occasional peasant militia. Each man seemed as if he had seen a lifetime of war and Dunk wished that he had brought more men to help relieve them.

He looked up and saw that a dead body hung from one of the buildings; his red cloak matching the red ruin of his head. As Dunk turned his gaze he could see more bodies hanging from the rafters, each in various states of dismemberment as they coloured the bricks of the homes and battlements that displayed them. The drums continued to beat.

"What in the name of the gods happened here?" asked Ser Harlan in disgust.

"They've been flinging our dead back at us, among other things. We managed to clear the streets as best we can so that disease won't spread but at this point I think they just want to frighten us." Tion looked back at the old knight with blazing green eyes. "The lion fears nothing."

Dunk nodded absently and began to inspect the large wooden gate that separated the pirate horde from everyone else in the city. The gate certainly _looked_ sturdy enough, though nothing was unbreakable in his experience, with enough force the gates would give way like any other and judging by the sound of the drums growing closer and closer the Blackfyre pirates sought to test that theory soon. "Is this the only way in and out of the centre of the city?"

Tion shook his head. "There's another gate to the southwest, though we've stationed a portion of men there too. This is the most direct route in and out of my father's keep where the people crowd before….if they seek to sack us then they shall come through here."

The big knight turned to his aged sworn brother. "Ser Harlan, take half of our men and reinforce the south western gate, I shall stay here with the remainder and try and keep the scum out."

"As you say lord commander, none shall get passed as long as I draw breath." replied the elderly knight with a resolute expression before leaving to get his men.

Dunk looked back at the street from one side to the other; it wasn't a particularly wide space perhaps only big enough to fit eight men standing hand in hand. With that realization the cogs of his mind slowly began turning as he looked around. _A bottleneck, the damned street is a bottleneck. _The Blackfyres likely had more men but such numbers would count for nothing in a confined space. _This could work…_

He turned to one of the Knights standing at his side and sent him off to bring the remainder of his forces waiting with the civilians to come to their location and told the man to make haste as he heard the drums slowly creeping ever closer.

"Ser Tion gather your men, we're going to make a stand."

The golden haired man stared at Dunk in shock. "They outnumber us two to one my lord; we'll be slaughtered!"

"Their numbers mean nothing in this tight path; it'll give us time enough to hold them off until the king's forces arrive with support."

But before the Lannister could argue a huge thud hit the gate, shaking it to its foundations and making the red cloaks jump to attention. Tion barked orders at the men to stand in formation while Dunk's men came hurrying up the rear to join their ranks. Dunk knew that soon the enemy would be upon them and said a silent prayer to the Warrior for strength and to the Mother for mercy for what was to come.

Suddenly the drums grew ferocious in their intensity and the gate was struck once again with a huge thud that almost shook the large wooden structure from its hinges. _It won't be much longer now. _Dunk took a breath and unsheathed his sword which his men took as a sign to do the same and stood with baited breath as they kept their gaze ahead.

The gate began to crack under the assault and Dunk turned to his men and shouted at them to get ready. Within seconds the gates were burst open and in ran a swarm of grungy looking foreigners screaming at them is some alien tongue. Dunk's men held steady until the pirates were well within the tight confines of the street before finally rushing to meet pirate steel with some of their own.

Dunk struggled to move his way through the multitudes of bodies that were squirming and battling each other and after some effort finally got towards the centre of the battle were the fighting was thickest and began to hack his way through his enemies. The pirates were wearing much cheaper armour than his own and he was able to cleave several men apart while only receiving bruises and dents as their blades bounced off his white plate.

He felt a mailed fist strike him so hard that it nearly scrambled what few brains he had and Dunk thanked the Seven that he was smart enough to wear his helm. He turned and swung his sword about with one hand while he casually threw a punch with his other, knocking more than one foreigner senseless. Despite all his training with sword and lance Dunk never could shake his brawler roots and found that more often than not his best weapons were his two fists.

The fighting was intense and Dunk could slowly feel the his movements growing sluggish by the instant and cursed himself for trying to pretend he was still a young man, but luckily enough his men had managed to hold the pirates from progressing much further down the street. If his luck could hold out then they could keep Blackfyre's men from reaching the citizens hiding out in the Centre Keep long enough for Egg and his men to arrive.

"HOLD STEADY LADS!" shouted Dunk as he and his men locked themselves in place firmly and held the pirates back with their shields, drawing a roar of frustration from the raiders who had undoubtedly not expected such resistance from simple city guard.

Dunk continued to hold the line with his fellow knights, pressing all of his large body weight forward into his sword and he could tell that his opponents were growing tired but suddenly they pulled away, leaving Dunk to almost tumble forward under his own momentum but he was able to quickly find his footing again and looked up to see why his opponents had stepped aside; splitting through the ranks was a goliath of a man wielding some odd curved sword and growling insults at him in some unknown language.

In an instant the giant man was upon Dunk swinging his unique weapon about in a flurry of attacks that Dunk could barely fend off and it seemed as if the battle had frozen around them as they exchanged blow after blow. Dunk had never considered himself a violent man and while he took life if he had to, it was always in the pursuit of saving lives and protecting the innocent and it was that thought, the image of those innocent people that these savages sought to brutalize that made him fight with an almost animalistic enthusiasm.

"You are a good fighter, but I've beaten much better men than you." Said Dunk through gritted teeth before punching the goliath in his dark face repeatedly with a mailed fist until the man's teeth were all shattered and his face a bloody mess.

Just as the big man dropped his guard to clutch his face Dunk brought his sword upwards through the tall pirate's leather armour and spilling his guts out with a sickening display of gore and crimson splashing all over Dunk's white armour.

Without having a moment to recover he was set upon by yet another wave of pirates and rogues looking to make a name for themselves. With a weary sigh he continued to fight on despite the agony each breath took and how his joints screamed for him to lie down and rest.

He suddenly felt a sharp pain in the side of his leg and he glanced down to see an arrow lodged between an opening in the plates near his knee and he stumbled over, struggling to remain on his feet as three more men rushed him. Dunk could hardly stand let alone dodge their strikes and had to resort to weakly batting them away with his sword. _Is this how it ends? Dying on my knees in a burning city?_

One of them managed to evade his sword a cut him in the side with a short sword right near the limbs, causing Dunk to let out a howl of pain. Before his opponent could strike the killing blow someone leapt forward and cleaved the pirate's head from his shoulders, it was Tion Lannister looking to be in almost as sorry a state as Dunk was. The golden haired man stood before the downed kingsgaurd and slew any of the pirates foolish enough to get close then slowly helped Dunk to his feet.

"Ready for another bout?" asked the Lannister as they saw several more men swarm in from the gate.

Dunk smiled weakly. "I'm game if you are."

Yet before the two men could even raise their swords a great horn blew from behind them and the raiders quickly turned tail and ran as several men on horseback rode forward cutting them down bearing the banner of House Targaryen. _The King, _thought Dunk _The King has returned!_


	11. Ash and Snow

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Once again, a thousand thank yous to Ramzes for stick with me on this story! **

**DUNCAN**

When Duncan of House Targaryen arrived at Lannisport he found a city that looked as if it had been torn asunder. The harbor had been clogged with the broken and crushed hulls of Blackfyre, Lannister and Redwyne ships, the debris were so plentiful that it looked as if one could almost walk across the bay using the various pieces.

The docks were also littered with the dead of the pirates and red cloaks alike who had been torn apart in the early landing when the rogues tried to gain a foothold on land. Much of the city was still aflame despite the best efforts of the city watch to douse them, and the bodies were still being piled up and moved from the streets in a desperate attempt at stopping the spread of disease.

Duncan's father king Aegon watched it all with a grim expression that had not crossed his face in many years and Duncan knew that his thoughts were for the smallfolk that had to live in such destruction. After they had rode down into the city and pushed back the invaders from the homes and merchant quarters the king then commanded that half of his men be put to work in the assistance of clearing the devastation while Duncan drove the rest of the pirates back into their ships and into the waiting jaws of Lord Redwyne's fleet giving the crown a near total victory over the mercenary forces.

Once the city was secured and order restored to the streets a war council was called within the Lannister keep in the centre of the city. Duncan could never quite remember the exact relationship between the Lannisters of Lannisport and the Lannisters of Casterly Rock but whatever the case they all seemed to be very close with one another as Lord Tytos embraced his injured relative once they all arrived in the solar of lord Tymund.

Duncan noted a quiet exchange between lord Tymund's son Tion and Ser Dunk; he had heard that the younger man had saved the huge knight during the battle and for that Duncan was extremely grateful.

As everyone took their seats Aegon immediately turned to lord Tymund and assured the man that the crown would give them their complete support and that he would leave several garrisons of men to help in the rebuilding and reinforcement of the city. After he had finished with the pleasantries he took a deep breath and assumed his 'king' persona and spoke to them in a firm voice.

"My lords, we cannot allow this to go unpunished. The monster Maelys has proven that he cares little for our people and our cities, now he has an army of cutthroats at his beck and call…" Aegon paused and looked at the faces of everyone in the room, a solemn expression on his worn face. "We must end this madness before it can go any further; my lords, we must strike back."

The room was silent after that before Tymund Lannister stood up from his seat. "I will fight with you, with what men I have."

After that it seemed as if the mood had drastically altered and the various lords began rising proudly to proclaim their allegiance. "The Vale is yours my King." said the Hand, Jasper Arryn. "My Stormlords will fight to the very last good-father!" shouted Edric Baratheon in his classic booming voice. "The ships of the Arbour will gladly do their duty." wheezed lord Redwyne, trying to make his voice heard.

Finally all turned to Tytos Lannister who seemed in deep thought, his golden brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to surmise his thoughts into a coherent sentence. Duncan's first thought was that the man was trying to think of an excuse to get himself uninvolved but he surprised everyone when a bright smile graced his chubby face.

"I'm doing the calculations now and I do believe we can have our men ready to mobilise by the weeks end."

Duncan's father seemed to sigh in relief at that and informed the lords that they had best return to their lands and make preparations for the coming days and quickly dismissed them as he returned to seeing the rebuilding efforts and the lords all quickly hurried out to see to their affairs. Duncan wanted nothing more than to do the same and return home as it had been weeks since he last saw Jenny and every day that he didn't get to hear her lovely sing song voice felt like an eternity, but he knew that he was needed by his father's side, now more than ever.

He spent the remainder of the day helping to direct the men trying to douse the fires and had even gotten involved in moving debris with them. Their efforts had been fierce and the men's resolve had not failed them as they struggled to stop the flames from consuming anything else and by the day's end they had successfully put out all the fires. While it had been encouraging, they were also painfully reminded of the damage that had been done to the once beautiful city and all the homes that were lost to the people.

Eventually as night fell he cleaned himself up and went to sup with his father and Ser Dunk as was his custom. While the king sat at the head of the table scouring through maps of the various seas surrounding Westeros, Dunk sat to his right taking up two seats as he rested his wounded leg on a separate chair.

"Come have a look at this Duncan." said Aegon without looking up.

The prince didn't have to be asked twice and walked over to his father's left and looked over his shoulder at a particular patch of land that his father was tapping on. A Vague familiarity came to the prince of Dragonflies as he tried to recall his lessons.

"The Step Stones, what of them father?"

"I believe that is where our enemy seeks to land." murmured the older man.

Duncan raised his brow in confusion. "So you don't think they mean to land in one of the Seven Kingdoms? With the reports we've been getting Maelys has more than enough ships to do so."

"Of ships he has plenty, but even if he does try a navel assault they'd be no match for our cavalry forces; a man coming from a ship has little to no defence against a knight on horseback and I think Maelys knows that…..if he can get his men on the Step Stones then he can give them a firm foothold from which to properly launch an invasion from."

"But what of _this_ attack, why would he throw away dozens of good ships and hundreds of men just attack a harbour town in the Westerlands that they knew they couldn't take?" Duncan asked, deeply confused.

It was Dunk who answered the Prince's question. "A diversion, while his men….his _pirates_ harassed us we put all of our concentration here instead of wherever he really wants to strike."

"But where is that?"

Aegon remained deadly silent the whole time, his purple eyes scanning over the map of Westeros, scouring every single possible location until finally they fell on the island capitol of Pyke and he felt a horrible fear rising in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

**BARRISTAN**

They had travelled a day and a night up along the Trident doing their best to avoid any lingering eyes. They spent little time resting yet Barristan did not mind the quickened pace at which they travelled as he knew all too well that it was vital that they reach the North as quickly as possible if the realm was to be saved.

Prince Aemon had mostly been quiet in their travels yet he managed a smile whenever someone addressed him or threw a joke his way and Barristan thought that perhaps the man was putting on a show of normalcy for the sake of his companions. Each night he would instruct whoever kept watch to wake him every two hours, no doubt still fearful of his dreams.

Once they reached the Neck the company was met by seven figures sitting atop horses waiting for them ahead. Barristan instinctively went for his sword only to be surprised to see that one of the figures was none other than the famous knight of Oldtown, Ser Gerold Hightower himself. The large knight led the party over to Aemon and his men, and shook the prince's hand roughly.

"How are you feeling?" he asked in concern as his broad features examined the Targaryen closely. "Alerie has been writing to me…..are you sure you should be out here for all of this?" he asked carefully.

Aemon's face was impassive and the nod he gave wasn't at all reassuring but the big knight seemed to accept it none the less and gestured for his men to come over. The knights he had brought were all Hightower bannermen and Barristan began to feel somewhat out of place as they all chatted away about their home. Barristan couldn't recall the last time he had stayed at Harvest Hall for more than a week at a time since becoming a knight.

That night they all sat together hunched around a camp fire, desperately trying to get warm despite the icy wind that was hitting them without fail.

"Is it always this cold?" asked one of Gerold's knights.

"We're up north Stevron; of course it's always this cold. I hear that they even get summer snows that come up to a man's waist." replied a tall moustached man as he absently tried to light his pipe, sending up ringlets of smoke.

"This is the furthest I've ever travelled from home." admitted Stevron as he clutched his blanket around himself.

Gerold laughed at that and handed the man a skin of wine. "You better get used this cold, we've still got a few more days of travelling yet."

The whole time while the men made jests and traded stories of their home, Aemon sat quietly with his eyes glued to the campfire, as if he was watching a murmmers show within the twisting orange flames. Barristan had seen that look on the prince before, back at Summerhall and it made him anxious, _you are a knight _he reminded himself _you must put that doubt aside and do your duty…_

They were awoken at the crack of dawn by Ser Gerold and given only a few moments to break their fast on the dried beef that they had all stocked up on. The taste was quite plain and the meat itself was as hard as boot leather but it quietened their aching stomachs and after having a little ale to wash it down with they were ready to begin another day's ride.

Their travels slowed to a crawl as they struggled to make their way North through the Neck. The swamps and various reptiles made some of the men feel uneasy but Ser Gerold had reassured them that as long as they didn't touch anything and kept to themselves that they would be unharmed. Barristan marvelled at the colours of some of the toads that hopped past them into their slimy mud holes, and he thought that such sights were a gift from the seven.

Once the companions had made it North of Moat Cailin Ser Gerold and Prince Aemon informed them that they were to travel west along Flint's finger until they reached the stony shore where a ship would be waiting to take them to Pyke, and hopefully to a hospitable meeting with Quenton Greyjoy and his kin. The young knight didn't like the idea of going into the home of the Ironborn, given their history of savage barbarism to anyone from the mainlands but held steadfast; he knew that Ser Gerold and Prince Aemon would not steer them into certain death.

The days grew colder as they continued to move north and more than once they heard the distant cry of wolves at night. Stevron began coughing quite a bit as they pressed onwards through the open fields; the wind seemed to have brought a chill on the man that wouldn't leave him. Barristan suspected that many of the knights were having a harder time of their travels than they were letting on and for once he was thankful for the strong breezes and heavy rains of the Stormlands that had helped him tolerate the cold somewhat better than most Southerners could.

Finally after much agony they finally came to the stony shore where, just as Ser Gerold had said, a ship was waiting for them. It was only a small vessel, perhaps made for fishing excursions with a crew of no more than four or five people at a time, though judging by the ship's worn appearance and such ventures happened quite some time ago.

As if to answer their collective doubts, Ser Gerold turned to them with a frown. "This was all I could get on such short notice lads, so buck up."

With that the men hitched their horses to a nearby tree and made their way over to the vessel. After reluctantly climbing aboard the wooden deck they were given quite a shock when Barristan stepped on a pile of rags only to hear it yelp in anger. A waif-like man suddenly emerged from underneath the buddle of torn materials and looked up at the knights with an expression of mild annoyance.

When Ser Gerold spotted the scarecrow-like man he stormed over to him with a bristling expression. "I thought the deal was that you would be ready to go as soon as we arrived Jev, where are the others?"

The skinny man just stifled a yarn. "They be sleeping below deck." He replied lazily.

Gerold's eyes narrowed at that and he put a hand down on the smaller man's shoulder and gave a sharp squeeze, jolting the man awake. "Wake them up _now_, or you don't get paid. We need to be gone within an hour."

Jev began mumbling under his breath but hurried off to wake up his kin while the rest of the knights watched on in bemusement. The was an odd silence for a moment before suddenly the cabin door burst open and a mass of grubby looking men came stumbling out and went to work on the ship while their malnourished leader barked out orders for them. Barristan would have laughed if he hadn't been so stunned by it all.

In less than an hour the ship was on its way out of the coast and heading north. The young knight spent his time largely trying not to be sick all over the deck, though it was a losing battle and after a particularly fierce wave hit the small boat he found that he could no longer contain his bile and hurried over the rails to empty his traitorous stomach.

"Having trouble?" asked the voice of Aemon Targaryen as he walked over to stand beside the retching knight, a sympathetic smile on his pale face.

Barristan struggled to compose himself and stood up straight. "It's just a passing bout of sea sickness my prince."

That warranted a laugh from the Targaryen. "There's no shame in it, my brother Duncan doesn't have a stomach for ships either." His lilac eyes looked off distantly and he smiled at that recollection of a memory back before things had turned sour for him.

"Did you have to travel by sea often my prince?" asked Barristan, trying to take his mind off of his the waves.

"Oh yes, we were expected to visit Dragonstone at least a few times per year. Dreary place but it was the family seat so we had to go, I remember the first time I went there I spent half the time hiding behind my mother because I was afraid of the stone gargoyles and…" Yet something caught the prince's attention and he suddenly stood upright in fear as his eyes remained fixed out onto something in the sea.

The young knight turned to see what the prince was looking at and he caught sight of distant figure on the horizon that was slowly growing closer. It seemed like some form of a ship and for a moment he assumed that it was the Ironborn come to greet them but then he caught sight of the sail; in place of the golden kraken of Greyjoy was a giant red serpent. From beside him Aemon whispered something in a grave tone.

"The serpent is coming."


	12. Sea Beasts

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: As always, thanks go to Ramzes for sticking with the story**

**AEMON **

The wind was against them.

As soon as they realised that the pirate ship was heading towards them and that it was not like any Greyjoy vessel they had ever seen Gerold began barking out orders to Jev and his crew, demanding that they escape as fast as possible. Aemon knew that it was folly to try and avoid them, he had seen the Serpent attack them in his dreams and every part of his mind and soul told him that it was going to happen.

At first he was so terrified that he could hardly move from his place on the deck and had gone deaf to everything outside his own mind. Death itself was approaching them and one way or another it would exact a toll from them, that sense of powerlessness made him feel like a fish caught in a net and he struggled to maintain his breathing. His fear almost consumed him until a memory came to his mind's eye, one that he had seen in his dreams often of late; a stag, a wolf and lion all combatants with a great black beast with two heads. The creatures all tried and failed to fight off the great behemoth before suddenly they were sheltered underneath a crimson wing of a dragon. He could still hear the dragon's roar of victory as a white light consumed the ebony monster. Such dreams were often nonsensical but he knew right away it meant Maelys defeat and it was that assurance that gave him strength.

He turned to Ser Barristan and quickly ushered the young knight back by Gerold's side where many of the other men had gathered, knowing full well that they would not escape without a fight. Gerold continued to shout himself hoarse at the crew until suddenly the first mate was dropped by the shaft of an arrow. It was almost as if a strong breeze had come over them then, only instead of cold salty wind greeting them it was dozens of arrows, forcing the knights and prince to seek cover behind anything they could find.

"Get us to the mainland!" shouted Gerold as he struggled to make himself heard over the screams of dying men.

The whole time the spectre of the pirate ship grew closer and closer until it was only a few yards from their small fishing boat, the flurry of arrows increasing and killing more of the crew by the minute. Finally the big Hightower had had enough and unsheathed his sword, a signal for all the others to do so as they all moved together in formation, though Gerold pulled Aemon towards the centre mass. "If you die Alerie will have my head, try and stick close to Me." he urged.

Aemon gave a bitter laugh at that. "I'm touched by your concern."

The humour did little to lighten the mood as soon they felt the boat shake violently as the larger vessel collided with its hull, almost capsizing them. Tensing up, the knights all charged as soon as the pirates began to board them and managed to cut down a few before the other ship's archers started to loosen a few arrows upon them, one hitting Stevron in the chest and knocking the man to the ground.

Before they had a chance to retaliate another wave of angry pirates swarmed off the larger ship and surrounding the companions. Gerold had cut down at least five or six men who ventured close enough while Aemon kept his left flank covered. From the corner of his eye, Aemon could see Ser Barristan moving from one attacker to the next with a speed and ferocity that he had never seen in a warrior, not even Gerold.

The carnage was suddenly halted when several men made their way through the crowd armed with crossbows; all pointed at the tiring knights. "Throw down ya weapons!" demanded one of them.

Gerold looked to Aemon and Barristan before turning over to the survivors of their company and found that of the original seven knights they brought with them, only three remained while Stevron lay bleeding, but alive on the deck as his lifeblood slowly seeped into the wood. "Do as they say." He told them in defeat.

Once they had thrown their weapons on the ground men came scurrying along to snatch them up while Aemon and the others merely looked at each other imploringly, as if they could find some magical way to save each other. Aemon was certain that if the pirates figured out his identity, if they hadn't already, that they would likely keep him alive as hostage, either for ransom sake or to simply hand over to Maelys, depending on how greedy they felt. His friends would almost certainly be killed, of that he had little doubt.

He was surprised when the crossbowmen lowered their weapons and stood to attention as the crowd parted way for someone. Aemon heard the man coming before he saw him, his heavy boots clinking against the wooden deck with every step he took. The pirates all seemed to stand a little straighter as the sound came closer until finally the face of their master was revealed to the unarmed knights.

What walked before them looked like a man; a comely face with flowing black hair and a dark beard cut close to his jawline, his eyes were the shape of almonds in a deep shade of maroon that seemed to dance with every movement and turn of his head. He was dressed in some form of leather armour that made the faintest noise with each step and twist as he strutted forward, as if giving his arrogance a voice of its own. The area over his chest was adorned in a chestplate of iron with a large red snake painted running down it, curved in such a way that it seemed to be making a figure eight.

Aemon felt his heart constrict in his chest as that same red serpent from his dreams came towards him and his friends. The pirate lord's maroon eyes flickered over their helpless forms with an unreadable expression before settling on Aemon, whose presence caused the faintest of smiles to cross the rogue's face.

"What possible reason does a Targaryen prince have for being this close to Ironborn territory I wonder; surely you wouldn't just do it for the leisure? Not in a place like this, and almost certainly not during a time of war." The pirate's face twisted into a sickening smile as he took a step closer to Aemon. "You came to treat with the Greyjoys didn't you?"

None of them said anything which only seemed to amuse the pirate. "Don't feel like talking? Pity." He raised a brow at Aemon. "Which one of Aegon's sons are you? Can't be the oldest as you don't look remotely Dornish, and you aren't being carried around like an invalid so you can't the sickly one either….you're the mad one aren't you?"

The prince ignored the insult and brought his lilac eyes to his captor. "You're the real madman if you think Maelys will ever sit the Iron Throne."

"Oh yes, because the current stock of Targaryens is so terrifying….did you know that Maelys promised me your sister?" the man licked his lips at that and it was all Aemon could do to not hit him. "I've heard she is quite the peach, I'll have fun devouring her….after I make her watch as I strangle that whelp of hers."

"How dare you speak of the princess like that!" shouted Ser Barristan as he went lunge at the rogue, only to be struck in the back of the head by one of the pirates, sending the young knight to his knees.

The Serpent threw an unimpressed look at the knights standing by Aemon's side, his maroon eyes flicking over them one by one. "I only need the prince, the rest of you are just meat for the grinder."

Gerold spat at the pirate king's feet. "It'll take more than a bunch of cowardly thieves to kill me."

Hightower was quickly silenced by a blow to the stomach and savaged upon by no less than five of the grubby raiders who stomped the big man back into the deck before he had a chance to rise again. After a few minutes the Serpent gestured for them stop and Gerold was left in a pool of his own blood, coughing violently while the Pirate grinned like a madman.

"You think having five men against one makes you some great warrior? You're a coward who hides behind others." spat Aemon.

The Serpent lazily brought his maroon gaze over to the prince and set him with a look of utter loathing and for a long time simply watched the Targaryen before turning to one of his men. "Give him a blade." Automatically one of the pirates shoved a sword into Aemon's hand before hurrying back in line with the others. The Serpent discarded his cloak and took out his own sword, standing at the ready.

Right away Aemon came at the pirate, throwing everything into his swing as his blade collided with the Serpent's. While Aemon had to push himself to keep up, the pirate lord seemed to be effortlessly blocking each strike as if they were the actions of a child and after a few moments began to go on the offensive and moved his blade at a frightening speed.

Aemon barely moved his sword in time to block any fatal blows and cursed himself for being so weak. For every blow he failed to land the greater his frustration grew which only caused him to become more reckless with his attacks.

"You disappoint me princeling, I would have thought a man trained by the finest warriors alive would have put up a better challenge." taunted the Pirate King as he crossed his sword with Aemon's.

The Targaryen responded by bringing his head forward and cracking the other man's nose which gave him the reprieve he needed to take a breath and push through the pirate's defences before the other man had a chance to properly react. He lunged forward as the rogue clutched at his gushing nose and thrust his sword, the sound of leather tearing like music to the prince's ears as his blade sliced the side of his enemy.

Taking a few steps back, the pirate gently brought a hand to the bloody patch near his ribs and examined the blood for a moment before a sickening smile crossed his face once again. "Yes…that's good, that's very good." and with a cackle of laughter dashed forward once again at Aemon in a blaze, his wound seemingly forgotten.

Before Aemon could properly react he saw a glimmer of steel pass close to his right eye before suddenly his sight was obscured by a stinging pain and mass of blood. Instinctively he clamped his eye shut though that only caused him a swell of agony as he dropped his sword and brought his hands to cover the wound.

"I'm sure Maelys can overlook a few…cuts and scrapes." came the mocking voice of the Serpent.

Aemon could barely comprehend what was going on around him as he struggled with the agony in his eye and felt a great sense of dizziness and fell to his knees. The blood continued to rush down his face freely, racing downwards into his clothing.

"Take them back to the ship; we can have fun with them on the way to Pyke...but make sure that the Targaryen isn't maimed, Maelys will want that pleasure for himself."

He absently felt a pair of big hands roughly pull him to his feet and began dragging his limp form across the deck before suddenly dropping him unceremoniously against the hard wood.

"Captain, enemy ships coming on the starboard side!" shouted one of the pirates in a worried tone.

Suddenly everyone was shouting and Aemon could hear the death rattle of a man not three feet from him which was soon followed by the sound of bodies hitting the deck. He opened his left eye and was given a blurry glimpse of the carnage around him; three longboats were approaching at a swift pace, sending a barrage of arrows down upon them, their flags were too far away for Aemon to read though he could make out a green colour.

"My prince!" shouted a familiar voice as Ser Barristan hurried over to his side and helped him to his feet. "Ships bearing the sigil of House Mormont, we are saved!"

"W-where is Gerold?" he asked wearily as he tried to focus on the moving figures around him.

"Ser Gerold is alright, but we must make it to the life boat before they notice we are gone!" urged the young man as he led them over to the rail of the ship. Instead of lowering the small dingy into the water Barristan quickly picked up a discarded sword from the ground and cut the ropes holding the life boat, sending the tiny boat into the water with an undignified thud. "We're going to have to jump my prince."

Aemon was about to protest when suddenly he felt large hands grab him and Barristan and throw them over the rails and into the murky seas below. As soon as he broke the surface and felt the salt water hit his wounded eye Aemon let out a silent scream which only came out as bubbles before rising to the surface again and swimming over to the little dingy and climbing aboard.

Ser Barristan emerged next and Aemon held out his hand to the young man and pulled him up from the cold northern waters. The knight took a moment to catch his breath and then began to move the oars away the chaos in front of them. After they made it a few feet Aemon spotted a large figure slowly making its way towards them.

"Ser Barristan, slow down! It's Gerold!" cried the prince.

Eventually the big man grabbed hold of the deck and pulled himself up, an effort which nearly capsized the small boat. It took him a moment to fully get his wits about him before he turned to the two men. "Those ships were from Bear Island….Mormont's people rarely travel far from their island, I'd wager that we could make it in perhaps a few hours if we stay with the tide and if the Gods are good."

"Where then?" asked Barristan.

"Winterfell, we head to Winterfell."

* * *

**Back at the ship...**

The fighting had gone on for a few hours before the pirates had retreated and the small fishing ship had been stripped of everything that could be sold or used. The men had been mostly quiet afterwards, knowing that their captain was still fuming over the loss of his Targaryen prize and wisely avoided his cabin, that was, until they had found a man in the water.

Once the captain had been altered to the man's presence he ordered that they fish him out and after throwing the half dead man a line, presented him before the Serpent who went over to the man's bloodied form with a look of concern. "Oh what have they done?"

The pirate lord gently removed the wounded man's tunic and frowned as he checked the bloodied gash that sat across the man's lower abdomen. He pressed down on various places and when he was satisfied he asked the man's name.

"Stevron..." came the weak reply

The Serpent looked down at the man with a reassuring smile. "Well Stevron, thankfully none of your vital organs were damaged."

"The Gods are merciful."

"Indeed." The Serpent looked over to a portly man standing to his left. "Go into my cabin and fetch my surgical tools."

Stevron looked up at the pirate in confusion. "I thought you said that none of my inwards were hurt?"

A malicious grin spread across the pirates face at that and he knelt down beside the other man. "Aye, I did. The gods are merciful for keeping you intact and unspoiled. We certainly can't be having rotten meat on our plates."

The young Hightower knight tried to say something only to be shushed by the pirate. "You've been a very brave man, very brave indeed….I think I'll eat your heart first."


	13. Heart of a Kraken

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**BARRISTAN**

They had arrived at Bear Island after a day of rowing and Barristan was certain that his arms would never regain full feeling after the harsh labours. Though both prince Aemon and Ser Gerold had offered to take up the load the young knight had turned them down, the two men weren't in any shape to be expending so much effort. Ser Gerold's face was puffy and swollen from where the pirates had kicked him, and his cheeks were marred with purple bruises. Prince Aemon's eye was also quite disconcerting as it had now crusted over with blood along the curved scar that ran down his right eyelid and Barristan wondered if the man would ever regain full sight.

A crabber ship managed to pick them up when they were within distance of the famed Island of Mormont and they were immediately brought before Lord Mormont's two children, Jeor and Maege. The boy didn't look much older than Barristan himself yet stood proud and tall as like he had been the veteran of a dozen battles yet that pride seemed to lessen once he caught sight of prince Aemon's wounded form.

"M-my prince, why do you bless my father's halls with your presence?" he asked worriedly before gesturing for the servants to come forth and attend the wounded companions.

Aemon waved them off and took a few weak steps forward. "I need to speak with your lord father, there are Blackfyre pirates off the coast of your island and I fear that they will soon be joined by Ironborn."

The young man's face went pale at that and he exchanged a worried glance with his sister. "Your grace, my father has been bedridden for over a month now…he isn't well enough to do anything."

The prince nodded solemnly and pinched the ridge of his nose in frustration as he struggled to think of a plane. "We'll need safe passage to Winterfell; Lord Edwyle must be made aware of what is brewing."

It was Lady Mormont who spoke next, her voice surprisingly stern. "Yes, yes, but first you have to let our Maester take a look at the lot of you….you look like death keeled over."

Barristan winced slightly at the girl's harsh words but knew she spoke the truth; he could hardly move his arms without them hurting from stiffness and Ser Gerold seemed as though he were in a daze half the time. Yes a Maester would do the trick, at least to see them on their way.

The old man went to the prince first and right away had the young Targaryen lay down flat on his back as he examined the bloody scar that zigzagged its way down his right eye. Barristan and Ser Gerold were forced to sit back and wait while the Maester did his work, the only clues they had to the progress was an occasional hiss of pain from the prince or a slight humming from the old man, finally he helped Aemon to his feet after bandaging the wound.

"You are quite lucky my prince, the blade did not puncture your eyeball only the muscle surrounding it so you should regain some sight in the eye but for now you must keep it covered." instructed the Maester as he finished up with the bandaging.

Ser Gerold did not get off so easily and had to have several of his wounds cleaned out and even had to have his left shoulder put back into place causing a couple of Mormont men to help hold the big knight down as the Maester pushed on the big man's arm until a sickening pop was heard and Gerold let out a roar of pain which was muffled by the piece of wood they had used for him to bite down on. Afterwards they were sent off to speak with the Mormonts while Barristan had his head injury examined.

"You've a bad concussion lad, you'd do well to not go to sleep for a while." said the Maester as he checked the bloody spot on the back of Barristan's head.

"Well we indeed to leave in an hour's time, so I'm sure these cold Northern winds can keep me awake." He replied as he hoped to his feet and began slowly to put his tunic on over his bandaged and beaten form. He took a breath and then adorned chainmail about his shoulders with as much delicacy as he could manage and then fastened the cloak Lady Mormont had given him around his neck and went to see to the Prince and Ser Gerold.

The two men sat around a table discussing matters with Jeor and judging by the grim expressions they were explaining the matter of those pirates. Instead of disturbing them he stood by the doorway and watched for any potential dangers, blending in with his surroundings as he vaguely listened in on their conversation.

"I can give you fifteen men to escort you to Winterfell your Grace, and, hopefully, you should arrive there within a week." said Mormont quietly.

Aemon furrowed his brows in disappointment. "That won't be soon enough; even if we send a raven to Lord Stark it'll still take a few days before he can get here and the Blackfyres may already be at Pyke by now!"

Jeor looked grim at that and merely stared into his cup of ale. "Only the Gods know what rules the hearts of the Greyjoys."

* * *

**QUENTON **

The morning air tasted of salt and iron, to Lord Quenton of the House Greyjoy that was as good as it got. As of late he had taken to walking the shores of his island home every morning at first light in order to watch the tide come and to clear his head of the multitudes of worry that he had to carry around with him each day. It was always something; first his men would be eager to raid and pillage as they liked and he would have to forcibly remind them to avoid the larger villages for fear of adding anymore tension between his people and the Greenlanders.

Then there was the matter of his children to think about; his eldest son and heir Quellon was a fool who would rather spend his days between a woman's legs than at a lord's chamber. His other boy Vickon was a dutiful lad, and a keen warrior but he was little more than soldier in a time when he needed capable men of intelligence to take over when he died. His thoughts shifted to his daughter Alyse, the child that caused him the most grief ever since she ripped her way out of her mother. His little girl had proved to be quite a force in his life these past nineteen years, with her easy smiles and seductive looks she had ensnared quite a few of his men over to her side and Quenton often wondered if she planned on having them turn against him at some point. He certainly wouldn't put it past her, and had she been born a boy he would have almost been proud. _She is your true heir, not those blundering idiots you call sons_ he thought with a sense of regret.

Quenton often wondered how long he had left before the Drowned God needed another oarsman, he hoped it was long enough that he could get his children in line and that his House could prevail. He would need to beat Quellon into the man he should be, just as his own father, Dagon, did to him all the many years ago before Maekar Targaryen took his head.

The lord of Pyke shook his head wistfully and turned away from the sea and made the long march back to his home. The wind blew at his dark grey hair with a sudden ferocity that made Quenton look up at the overcast skies above him that threatened rain and said a silent prayer to ward off the Storm God.

By the time he reached Pyke it was already close to midday and his castle was alive with activity as his people hurried about their duties. At this point Quenton couldn't even bother to acknowledge them as he walked through his halls up to his chambers where today's list of problems would try and conquer him. As he pushed open his chamber doors he was greeted by the castle Maester-an old man named Harmon- and his daughter, the latter of whom was sitting atop his desk going through his letters with a bored expression on her finely crafted features.

The old man spoke first, though as usual he stuttered and started whenever Quenton's gaze fell upon him. "M-my lord, we have several matters that….that require your immediate attention."

Quenton poured himself some ale from a nearby flagon and drank down before answering the old fool. "Speak quickly, I find myself having a serve lack of patience this morning." He growled before pouring another cup.

Harmon took a breath. "Lord Blacktyde is squabbling with Lord Stonetree over a matter of a ship that was apparently-"

"Stonetree is a bad gambler and can't accept his loses. Tell him to hand over the ship or he'll have to answer to me."

The Maester nodded in approval and checked back at his list. "We also have a foreign ship anchored just off our port, they have sent a man bearing goods who wishes to speak with you my lord, what should I tell him?"

The Greyjoy thought on that for a moment; it was very rare for even non-Ironborn Westerosi to show up around their territory and rarer still for someone not from the seven kingdoms to come waltzing in to Pyke. He cupped his stubbled chin and weighed his options; if the man was an enemy he wouldn't have come alone and given that he had brought goods he certainly wanted a trade of some sort, though what could it be? "Go bring him here." he said after a time.

Harmon bowed and then scurried out the chamber like the rat he was, leaving Quenton alone with his daughter who was unusually quiet. He stood by his window and watched the rainclouds gather on the horizon and nursed his cup of ale, determined to ignore his youngest child.

It was Alyse who broke the silence then, as she jumped down from his desk making a heavy thud as her boots slowly made their way towards him. "Father…" she purred her voice like silk. " What _are _you thinking?"

Quenton gave a sigh and finally turned to his daughter, a frown on his face. As always Alyse was dressed in men's breeches and tunic which clung to her figure in a way that had to be a deliberate attempt at catching those around her off guard. Her long raven hair was hanging freely down her shoulders in a colour that was so dark it matched her eyes, cheerful eyes he had called them when she was just a little girl, but now he could see that there was no cheer in those haunting orbs that shone like dragonglass, only a cruel humour. Her heart shaped face was like a mirror of her dead mother's; finely carved with delicate cheek bones and full lips that seemed almost out of place on a Greyjoy. "I'm thinking about whether or not to throw this foreigner into the sea." He confessed before taking another mouthful of ale.

Alyse smiled at him, a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Oh father, you're such a grump. What if he's some eastern king who wants you to marry his beautiful daughter?"

"Then I'd kill him and take his daughter for a salt wife. What do you really want girl, just say it and stopping wasting my time."

The young woman let a flash of annoyance cross her face before she quickly covered it with another uncaring grin. "You know what I want father, I want what's owed to me."

_Of course_ he thought bitterly, it always came back to that. "Quellon will rule after me, he is the eldest."

Alyse grabbed his sleeve to get his attention and Quenton had to stop himself from striking her out of reflex. "Father you know just as well as I that Quellon is weakling who will only bring shame to our family and Vickon is dumber than a piece of driftwood!"

He didn't want to continue with this game any longer. "You're a woman; you cannot inherit, certainly not before your elder brothers…I cannot change the world for you so stop asking it of me."

Quenton could tell she wanted to say more, that she was fuming on the inside and wanted to scream at him yet she instead kept herself silent with her mouth pressed in a thin line. In truth he _was_ proud of her, and there was plenty of times where he looked at her and saw his little girl, but more than ever he saw a look in her eye that frightened him, that same look his father had when he put the Starks and Lannisters to the sword, that lusty desire to see others suffer. Quenton had no delusions about himself, he was not soft, he paid the iron price, but he did so with cold indifference not out of any perverse desire like his father and daughter.

There was a moment of tense silence between them before they were thankfully interrupted by the Maester and the foreigner from the docks. As soon as Quenton saw the man he hated him, with his colourful hair and flowing silks he looked like some painted whore.

"My lord this is Seerko Haark of Tyrosh." explained the Maester.

"It is an honour to meet you my lord of Greyjoy."

The man's accent was annoying but Quenton let it go. "What do I owe the….pleasure?"

Haark stepped forward with a large grin on his face and spread his arms happily. "I bring good news from the east my lord; Maelys Blackfyre has come to free you from your Targaryen oppressors!"

Quenton stared at the man incredulously and had to stop himself from laughing in the blabbering fool's idiotic face. "That old feud eh? Why should I care about what colour dragon sits the Iron Throne?"

The Tyroshi's smile did not falter. "You are mistaken if you think the _true_ king of Westeros will be like the bastard usurpers who currently sit the Throne, Maelys is quite generous as you will soon find out…." He clapped his hands together and a large man entered the room with a chest full of gold and gem stones. "Not only riches beyond your wildest dreams, Maelys has something even greater planned for the mighty House of Greyjoy."

Quenton stared at the rubies that sparkled in front of him and wondered when he had last seen such treasures, not since his father's rebellion at the very least. His greed was lessoned as he turned his gaze to the gold and all the bloody memories Dagon had beat into him came back into his mind. "_Iron or Gold boy?"_ his father had asked once in between blows to the face after he had almost beat the life out of him.

While Quenton was lost in his thought Alyse spoke for him. "In return you would ask House Greyjoy to fight for your men?"

The Tyroshi smiled pleasantly and shook his head. "No my lady, Maelys would ask that you fight for _yourselves _against the men who put your family in chains and killed your lord Grandfather. If you would fight the Targaryens then under Maelys rule he would _give _you dominion of the Iron Islands and much of the North to rule as kings."

The lord of Pyke felt something ancient swell within his heart at the man's words and he thought back to the day Maekar Targaryen had slain his father in single combat and smashed the Iron Fleet. The red dragon won because he was strong and if there was one thing Quenton could respect in his life it was strength. _Maelys would buy my loyalty? No, I TAKE what is mine. _The thought enraged him beyond belief and he was almost trembling at the foreigner's voice.

Alyse seemed to be the only one who noticed the murderous look in her father's eye and gave his hand a gentle squeeze which managed to calm him somewhat. Her expression seemed to be one of genuine concern which caught the big man off guard and made him forget his anger for a moment.

"What do you say my lord?" asked the Tyroshi eagerly.

Quenton's dark grey eyes flicked to his daughter and then back to the man standing before him. "I need to speak with my daughter for a moment."

The foreigner bowed his head and left the room and as soon as he closed the chamber door Quenton turned to Alyse with a brooding expression. "We kill him. I don't care what he's offering or who he serves; no man will _buy_ an Ironborn."

"Are you sure father?" she asked cautiously.

"I am certain, and I have a plan that will not only send a message to the Greenlanders but also secure our power." He allowed himself a small smile as he took his daughter's delicate hand within his own. "I will indulge your….hobby just this once, but when you are done you must put the foreigner's head on a spike for all to see."

A malicious grin spread across Alyse's beautiful face at that. "What is dead may never die."

"But only rises again, harder and stronger."


	14. Devour

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N:As always, thanks to Ramzes for the reviews, they keep my inspired**

**DUNCAN**

"What in the name of the Gods were you THINKING?"

The King was furious and his usually fair features were flushed red in anger as he stood before his two middle children with a dangerous look in his eye. "You let your brother out of the city while we are in the middle of a war! How could the two of you be so foolish? Especially you Jaehaerys, how could you of all people do something like this?"

Even though they weren't directed at him Duncan still felt himself flinch at his father's words. He had gotten used to his father's raised voice better than any of his siblings yet he still found himself instinctively anxious by it. Rhaelle looked quite out of place as she stood with her hands by her sides and her gaze set firmly at the ground, one could easily forget that she was a parent herself and not a twelve-year-old again.

Jaehaerys was another matter though; he stood tall and meet Aegon's gaze with every word and showed absolutely no sense of fear whatsoever despite the fact that this was likely the first time their father had ever shouted at him. Most people thought Jaehaerys weak because of his bookish nature but Duncan knew that there was intelligence to his younger brother that was unmatched by even the brightest scholars and coupled with that was a tremendous amount of courage.

"I did what I thought was right father, if you feel the need to punish me for that then so be it." said Jaehaerys in an even voice.

The look Aegon gave his son was dark. "Do you not see the gravity of what you have done? Your brother is out there on his own right when we're at our most vulnerable, and that's ignoring the fact that a few days ago he was barely lucid!"

Duncan didn't know what to make of the situation, on the one hand his brother would never do something without considering every possible scenario and even then only act with absolute conviction, but on the other hand Aemon was hardly in any state to travel when Duncan had last laid eyes on him. He was unsure and decided so kept his mouth shut and let his brother explain himself.

"Despite the popular rumours floating about the Red Keep, Aemon is _not_ a raving madman who thinks himself in a world of snarks and grumpkins. He came to me with a plan that would help _you_ safeguard the northern half of the realm." Jaehaerys' big purple eyes were staring intently at his father's now.

"Jaehaerys….for all we know he could be taken hostage by some Blackfyre sympathiser or worse he could lost in the northern tundras!" huffed Aegon as he pinched the ridge of his nose in frustration. "I can only hope that my search parties will find them in time."

"Father you just have-"

"Enough. The two of you have my leave to go…..go see to your children." Said the king dismissively, his voice sounded weary and he didn't even spare his children a glance as he sat back into his chair and rubbed at his temples.

Jaehaerys looked as though he wanted to say something else but Rhaelle quickly grabbed his hand and led her brother from the room leaving Duncan alone with his exhausted father. The prince of dragonflies took a seat on the edge of his father's desk and watched as the elder man gave a miserable sigh of frustration.

"Does any of this make sense to you?" he asked despondently.

Duncan shrugged. "Jaehaerys is a damned sight smarter than most men, I can't think that he'd willingly put anyone in harm's way unless he was certain that it was necessary….and Aemon has been so sick lately, why would Jaehaerys indulge him like that?"

"Aemon has always looked up to Jaehaerys, even if he has been more outgoing in temperament…" a brief smile crossed over his face. "Do you remember when Aemon was little, how Jaehaerys used to chase after him pretending to be a dragon?"

Duncan laughed at that. "And mother would always tell him not to, that he'd just wear himself out and get sick, though he'd never listen."

The king nodded sadly. "He hated when we made a fuss about him, absolutely _hated _it….but we couldn't help but be protective, it was our duty as parents….and now Aemon has become a worry." He turned his tired gaze to Duncan. "What is a father to do?"

The question caught him off guard and he struggled to find the words at first, but then he thought of Jenny and he had his answer. "You just have to have faith in them. We're a lot stronger than you think; _you_ made us strong, you and mother. Aemon _is_ alive."

**ADDAM **

**"**Does it really snow in Kings Landing?"

"Yes princess."

"I would like to see that, it hardly ever snows in Tyrosh."

"No princess."

Addam tried his best to keep his face neutral as he spoke to the young girl sitting before him. Daenys Blackfyre was one of the best Cyvasse players he had ever met and currently had taken his elephant and moved to strike at his dragon, all the while keeping up her innocent questions.

The princess was a true Valyrian princess with her deep purple eyes and long silver gold hair. At four and ten years she was already prettier than half of the women Addam had ever known, though admittedly he had mostly known the Tyroshi noblewomen who walked about with their hair dyed in colours of purple and green.

The birth of Maelys had nearly killed Lady Daena and it was miracle that she even managed to conceive again let alone give birth to a second. The story was that when Lady Blackfyre had seen the disfigured babe being handed to her she had tried to choke the life out of the poor thing until her brother-husband had stepped in and saved his only son's life, it seemed that the princess Daenys was the lady's attempt at making up to her husband. _Though the child had killed her in the birthing bed, and had been a girl to boot._

Yet contrary to what everyone thought Maelys had not wed his sister, instead he named her his heir and promised to wed her to someone of only the noblest blood in Westeros. Ever since Addam had been taken into Maelys service he was occasionally tasked with serving as the girl's protector from time to time. She was a sweet child and always had a smile for everyone; Addam found that his shifts looking after her were among the better parts of his duties.

He moved his dragon and took one of her knights, quietly proud of how long he had been able to hold off her victory. She paused to try and plan her next move but before she could make a move her chamber door opened up and in walked Ser Dafyd Flowers, an anxious look on his face. "His grace commands your presence."

In an instant Addam was on his feet and reattaching his cloak. "Very well, stay with the princess." He made a final move of his piece and walked from the room.

The castle they currently took refuge in was a ruin left over from the time of the First Men when they had originally used the Step Stones as a means to crossover into Westeros, and the castle was littered with various carvings and symbols that none of them could read, though one of the older members claimed it was written in the Old Tongue. 

He found Maelys Blackfyre in the very top room of the castle's only remaining tower, sitting behind the massive stone table that was littered with runes. To his left sat the Ebon Prince who for once sat with a scowl across his features. Beside him sat several foreigners that he did not recognise and sitting across from them on the right side of the table sat various members of the Gold Company; old Tom Farryn who had once served as lord Bittersteel's last squire, bald Stafford Hill who wore the worst comb over that Addam had ever seen, and Ser Hector Harrow. The seat to the king's right was empty.

An iron brazier sat behind them, its coals glowing a ruddy orange. There was only one window which sat to the west, beyond was the cloudy and overcast sky. Addam could see rainclouds approaching.

Addam gave a deep bow. "Your Grace, I have come as you asked."

"So you have." His purple eyes looked tired. "I am in need of your counsel Ser."

"It is yours your Grace." replied Addam with another bow.

Maelys pointed to the chair beside him. "Sit."

Addam did so and tried his best to ignore the various eyes of the foreigners who sat across from him. He gently traced one of the runes that had been carved into the table with his fingers, as if for reassurance. Maelys turned his gaze to a man sitting just beside the Ebon Prince, the only man at the table who had anything remotely resembling a smile. The Serpent.

"When I commanded you to treat with the Greyjoys I had thought that _you_, so called Lord of all the pirates, would go into Greyjoy's keep and speak with him man to man, to show him how much our alliance could benefit one another….and yet you sent in a motley fool in your stead and now I have yet _another _enemy. Give me a reason why I should not have you hanged from the mast of your own ship?"

The other man's smile did not cease and he leaned forwards on the table and held out his two hands. "I was wounded in my battle with Aemon Targaryen Your Grace; I still have the scars to prove it. By the time we arrived at Pyke I was bedridden and had to send one of my retainers, though I see now that had I gone on my own the only difference would be that _my_ head would be adorning a spike over the battlements of Pyke."

"You say that you fought Aegon's mad son, yet you also say that he escaped. It seems that my use for you is growing smaller with each passing day." complained Maelys.

The pirate's smile only grew wider and his maroon eyes gleamed with amusement. "If you feel that I am no longer useful to your cause then you are welcome to take my head, though there is the small matter of the many hundreds of ships that fight for _me."_

_You slippery bastard_ thought Addam bitterly as he watched the exchange. The king looked at the pirate with a murderous intent and Addam was entirely sure that if given the chance Maelys would open the man from balls to brains, however the Ebon Prince managed to stop things from escalating. "We're all very upset about what happened, but at least we struck at the Targaryen forces and put a dent in their defence. Aegon's son is missing and wounded, the man will be blinded by his grief…..he'll never see us coming."

"We could send a raid to the Dornish coast." suggested Ser Hector.

Tom Farryn scoffed at that. "An easy target yes, but what strategic value would it give us?"

"Aegon's own sister married a Dornishman, we could get at the man that way." The rat faced knight furrowed his brows. "Besides, the men grow lax from all of this watching and waiting. A battle is what we need."

Maelys seemed to consider it and rubbed at the stubble growing on his enormous jaw. "It could be done. The risk is small and the Dornish have little to no naval power and it would weaken Aegon's resolve if I had his nephew's head…how soon can you be ready?"

"My men can be mobilized in a day your grace." Ser Hector's voice was nearly shaking with excitement.

"Then make it so." He told the rodent of a man before addressing the rest of the table. "Go, inform your men about what is expected of them."

The room soon began to clear yet Addam noticed neither the king nor the pirate lord made to stand up, so the knight decided to remain seated. Maelys face was twisted into a mask of disgust as looked over at the smiling pirate who called himself the Serpent. _Two men could never look so different; Maelys is wide and hard, twisted by birth and by battle while The Serpent looks like every maiden's dream, though I'd wager if they knew the truth of the man they'd choose Maelys…_

"What's this I've been hearing about you…killing hostages." grunted the Blackfyre.

The other man's lips curled into a smile. "They weren't anyone of note I can assure you, just household knights."

Maelys narrowed his purple eyes on the pirate sitting before him, a storm cloud brewing within them. "You think your actions can go unanswered for? The rumours have already spread through my ranks and Gods know how much they've spread in Westeros. This…_habit_ of yours has to stop, it is ungodly and it gives us all a bad name."

The Serpent was no longer smiling now, his mouth had gone into a straight line and his eyes were boring a hole into the King's own. His maroon eyes seemed to glow an eerie red in the glow of the fire and Addam found himself unconsciously moving his hand to the sword at his side.

"Do you know what my father told me, the first time he took me on a hunt? He said that when you take another creature's life you end all they were and all they could be." His red eyes found looked at Maelys unflinchingly. "I am honouring those I have killed by eating them, their souls."

The king leant forward, hands clenched tightly. There was not a trace of fear on his scarred, broad face, only fury. "You will be more discreet in your madness or I swear I will throw you into the sea." With that the king stood from his chair and Addam quickly followed suit, moving to his right hand side. They were just at the door when the Serpent called out.

"Remember our deal. You get my ships, and I…get Rhaelle Targaryen as a bride."

Maelys only paused briefly and gave the barest of nods before continuing into the darkness of his castle ruin.


	15. Hurt

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**DUNK**

There was a heavy rain upon the city the day Alerie Hightower stormed into Aegon's solar with defiant eyes and a scrunched up letter in her hand. _Such an odd match for Egg's youngest_ reflected Dunk as he inspected the young woman, she was certainly pretty enough to be considered a princess and she knew her courtesies well, but there was also a fierceness to her that seemed at odds with Aemon's own laid back nature. _Perhaps that's why they were so good to each other? _ Dunk liked to think that they worked to keep each other balanced.

Yet when she marched up to the king and all but shoved the letter into his hand and watched him with burning blue eyes Dunk knew something was wrong, and the frown that was slowly forming on Egg's face was only further proof of the matter.

"I'm so sorry my dear..." he started before he was silenced with a single risen hand.

"I don't want to hear it; I'm tired of hearing apologies and condolences or anymore half-hearted gestures. I'm leaving for Oldtown with the earliest ship on the morrow."

Egg looked quite stunned at that before shaking his head. "No, no that won't do. Your time is almost upon you, it would be too risky."

Alerie had fumed at that and sent the king a look that would send knights running scared. "You read that letter, my brother and his wife are _dead_ and his son Leyton sits the Hightower alone. King or no you will _not_ keep me from my family, not now of all times."

"But what of your brother Gerold, or Aemon….surely you won't just leave them?"

"Gerold would agree with me and Aemon, well it wasn't me who sent him off to die in the cold now was it?" challenged lady Hightower.

Both Dunk and the king flinched at the young woman's words; she hadn't made it a secret that she blamed Jaehaerys for letting Aemon out of the Red Keep and she hadn't spoken to the crown prince in over a week, something that was extremely disconcerting to both the king and his lord commander.

Egg gave a weary nod. "Fine, you may go see to your nephew and mourn your brother and his wife, but I insist on you taking at least one of the Kingsguard, and a dozen knights."

"You have my thanks your grace." And with that the young woman gathered up her skirts and left the room.

Not two days after lady Hightower left for Oldtown did the king receive word form Lord Edwyle Stark that the prince Aemon and Ser Gerold had been found safe and were currently on their way south to King's landing.

* * *

**AEMON**

**A few weeks later…**

The trip south had been gruelling. The cold was even more devastating than he had originally thought and if it were not for Lord Edwyle's men guiding them through the blizzards and rough terrain then he and his companions would have surely died. Matters were made worse by his dreams; he was plagued with them nearly every night and sometimes their images stayed with him during his waking hours, which in turn caused him to suffer from quite a few headaches, sometimes to the point where he could do little more than sit atop his horse. Yet now that he was returned to the warmth of King's Landing he expected things to improve, though that soon proved to be false.

The people cheered him and his companions as they made their ways through the crowded streets, in clear adoration for the son of their beloved King Aegon. Despite the people's intent, Aemon was extremely uncomfortable with the scores of people watching him and he found another headache coming on just as he reached the Red Keep.

His family stood waiting for him in the Throne room. Jaehaerys stood with Duncan, Rhaella and Aerys while Rhaelle had to hold back young Steffon from running towards him. His father of course sat the Iron Throne playing the part of king as he solemnly watching Aemon walk past the various lords and ladies that seemed to inhabit the great room.

Ignoring the dull ache in his head, Aemon looked up at the king and spoke in a loud and strong voice. "I have returned Father and with the aid of the brave men of the North."

"So I see." Aegon rose from the spiked chair and addressed the Stark men who had escorted Aemon south. "You men have done the crown a great service for which I will not forget, Ser Duncan will see to your needs."

Aemon had to wait until all of the formalities had been observed and the court had gotten its fill before he would be allowed to speak with his family as he truly wished; without any prying eyes and ears around. As soon as they returned to his solar all of the courtesies were forgotten and Duncan wrapped him up in a tight embrace of which he only half hearted returned. The little ones also gave him excited hugs of their own before being ushered off by one of Rhaelle's ladies in waiting.

"Where is Alerie?" he asked in much more agitated tone than he intended.

Jaehaerys had been the first to answer, a solemn expression in his large eyes. "Her brother and good-sister have been in an accident, Leyton is now Lord of the Hightower…..you have to understand she had no idea of when you were coming back and her nephew needed someone...she has taken a ship to Oldtown."

His head was well and truly aching now and the images began to repeat themselves in mind's eye, the pain was almost unbearable and when Duncan went to gently touch his shoulder he flinched away. "Get out." He hissed.

"Brother please, I know you're worried but..."

"GET OUT!"

The room went deathly silent at that and the three eldest of the Targaryen siblings stared at their brother in shock. Rhaelle made to approach him but was stopped by a firm hand from Jaehaerys who merely shook his head and ushered the rest of them out of the room. The entire time Aegon stood quietly and watched as his son collapsed into a chair near the fire.

"That is not how a prince of the blood should act." said the king as he walked over to his son.

Aemon shot his father a hateful glare. "I know damned well how a prince of this family should act, one of two ways father."

He was silently satisfied by the look of hurt that crossed his father's face at that and hoped that the older man would take the hint and leave him to suffer alone, yet the man lingered still, his purple eyes locked on his son.

"You were wounded" observed the king as he took a step closer. "Ser Barristan told me of it all; it was clever of you to figure out the Blackfyre's plan for the Ironborn, though incredibly foolish to leave the Red Keep and try to march north with only a handful of men."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Aegon frowned at his son's apathetic tone and moved to stand in Aemon's line of sight. "Enough of this, I won't have you sulking in your chambers like some petulant child. You will apologise to your brothers and sister and start acting like someone of your station."

Aemon was unable to stop himself from flinching, not because of his father's words but because of the increased volume in his voice which only served to send a wave of agony through his skull. He knew what was coming, first he would come to feel angry and irritable as he was now but soon that burning rage would give way to a deep melancholy that was like to last for days. _Perhaps it is good that Alerie isn't here, she won't have to suffer me…_

The king looked down at his son with a look of concern. "Shall I send for the Maester?"

He gave the slightest on nods and felt himself shrink into his chair, as if he could make himself small enough to avoid his misery. Aegon turned to leave but Aemon reached out and stopped his father up. "How did my good-brother and his wife die?" he asked weakly.

"It was a fire."

* * *

**ADDAM**

Addam hated Dorne. He hated the hot sun that bore down on him and the rough waters that shook his ship violently. He hated that he had to share said ship with pirates and cutthroats and most of all he hated the Serpent for forcing him and his men to attack peasants.

He had argued at length with the man-if he could be called a man- and it had yielded no results. The pirate lord had laughed at his protests and none too gently reminded him that the king had given specific orders to harass the Dornish coastline and the white cloak had swallowed that bitter medicine and continued on, leading his own men, men of the Gold Company, to attack all the keeps and strategically vulnerable locations and cut down all of the peasant militia but had specifically commanded his men to spare the women and children._ Let the snake be angry, I'll not let his evil soil the rest of us…_

Of a night they would stay in the dispossessed homes of the smallfolk they had killed or driven away before moving on to the next village come the morning. The Serpent and his pirates had taken to keeping the women as bedwarmers and if it was quiet enough the night air would carry the lamentations of the Dornish women. The sound cut into Addam's soul like a pick axe.

They were slowly but surely working their way closer to Sunspear every day, leaving only a trail of dismembered corpses and defiled innocents in their wake. Progress was halted however, when a local band of militia dug in deep and began to fortify their village before the Blackfyre forces even arrived and using a mostly destroyed stone keep as defensive point. Addam was content to let them be and just move on but the pirate lord wouldn't have it.

"We'll burn them out. Set fires all around the village and let them choke on the ashes of their homes." His maroon eyes danced about madly.

"They're just frightened peasants; we'd just be wasting time and effort trying to kill them when we could be striking at the heart of the Dornish army in Sunspear."

The pirate shot Addam a dark look. "Your king gave command to me did he not? I say we leave a message for all of Dorne to see."

"They have done nothing wrong!" growled the knight.

"Oh? Was it not the Dornish who helped support the Targaryens over the Blackfyres?" he chuckled. "This people are enemies of the king."

Addam could no longer contain his fury at that and shouted loud enough so that all of those nearby could hear. "THEY ARE INNOCENT! The _ancestors_ of these people helped the _ancestors_ of our king's enemy, they have made no offense to the king himself and undeserving of your barbarism!"

The Serpent merely frowned at that and took a step forward. "_Your_ King ordered me to hurt Aegon, and by hurting these people I hurt Aegon. When his small council give him news of Dorne I want them to tremble in terror at the horror of what's become the Dornish under Aegon's watch, and if you don't like that then you can go fuck yourself. Now get out of my sight."

Addam stared back at the man unflinching before turning to his serjeants. "Back to the ships, we're leaving Lord Rapist here to butcher the smallfolk while we fight people who can actually fight back."

The men looked to Addam and then to the carnage around them and quickly hurried off to inform the men of the Golden Company their orders and within an hour all two hundred men under Addams command were back on their ship and sailing towards Sunspear. Everything the Serpent had told him was churning in his mind and the white cloak began to wonder how Maelys could allow such a man to do those things. _He needs to defeat the Targaryen usurpers; we're at war _he told himself, trying to urge himself on despite the doubts that had taken root in his mind.

He was shaken from his troubles by Humfrey Strickland who looked up him with an urgent expression on his pudgy face. "Ser Addam, you must come see this." He urged before shoving a myrish glass into the knight's hands and pointing out on the starboard side.

Addam could vaguely make out a shape in the distance which was slowly growing larger by the moment as it moved closer. _A ship, but the Dornish have no naval power?_ He tried to make out the markings of the vessel and could only conclude that it was no warship. He took another look at the mast and finally recognized the sigil.

Hightower.


	16. Gulf of Grief

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Thank you Ramzes for the reviews, they keep me going.**

**DUNK**

The Hand of the king was frightened. Dunk saw that at once.

As he slowly made his way towards the Iron Throne Lord Jasper Arryn trudged, as if he were walking through thick snow and he kept his eyes facing downwards with each slow step he took. Aegon watched him from his barbed seat with the faintest hint of apprehension crossing his aged face. Beside him his sons Duncan, Aemon and Jaehaerys looked as if they were about to march to war.

_Perhaps they are,_ thought Dunk sadly, as he watched Jaehaerys frown at the old man approaching._ With all of these pirate attacks the king will have to strike at them, and hard if he wants to halt an invasion from spreading to our shores._

The hand was now kneeling before the king and sight in Dunk's opinion given that Aegon had never asked such a thing from his advisor before. Aegon shifted uncomfortably and gestured for Lord Arryn to rise, yet he did so with much hesitancy. It was only when he stood and looked the king in the eye that Dunk could see the stricken look on his face.

"Your Grace," he started his voice barely a croak. "I-I have word from Sunspear…." Jasper Arryn closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath to help compose himself. "Dark Wings bring dark words Your Grace….the Blackfyre pirates have ravished the Dornish coast and put dozens of villages to the sword. Women and children were slaughtered, their homes burnt to the ground."

Aegon ground his teeth. "And so Maelys lives up to his name, I suppose the gods marked his true nature for the entire world to see. I will see his army smashed, his fleets scattered across the sunset sea, every bolt, every banner bearing the black dragon will be wiped away as if it had never existed. I will see the Blackfyre line reduced to ashes for this."

The King pinched the ridge of his nose and took a breath before looking back at his Hand. "Tell Lord Martell that the crown will send aid, ships, men, supplies, everything they need they shall have."

Lord Arryn still looked as though death itself had touched him and Dunk noticed that his eyes flickered over to prince Aemon every so often before bringing his attention back to the king. Finally he seemed to find the strength and spoke once again. "There is more your grace…I had word from o-one of my ships near Starfall," his voice caught. "They say that they came upon a ship that the Blackfyres had laid waste too…a Hightower ship."

Dunk looked over to prince Aemon who seemed to have gone a deathly pale and his mouth went into a thin line. He wanted to go and give the prince support and tell him everything would be alright but knew better than to do such public displays.

Aegon's purple eyes flickered with some unreadable emotion and he gave lord Arryn a cold look that was only matched by the cold of his voice. "What did they say my lord, you best tell me now."

His eyes went from the king to Aemon to the king once again. "They say that they found the crew dead, including the princess."

The king's nostrils flared. "Are they sure? Do you trust these men with your life?" he asked urgently.

"They…have proof your grace."

A queer silence fell over the great hall then as the King struggled to maintain his composure before suddenly gesturing for the Hand to leave. After lord Arryn had left Aegon immediately made to rise from his throne but cut his hand on one of the barbs as he pushed himself up and Ser Harlan stepped forward from Dunk's side and handed out a handkerchief to the King who absently took it and went over to his son who was standing as unmoving as a statue just behind the throne.

They all crowded around the young man now wary, as though he was like to fall over and shatter at a moment's notice. _He looks dead,_ reflected Dunk as he watched the young prince's purple eyes gaze off distantly. _The lad has had his heart torn out._

After a moment Aemon seemed to gain a sense of where he was and the people around him. He looked at his father with dull eyes. "May I be excused to return to my quarter's father?" his voiced sounded just as defeated as the rest of him.

Aegon rubbed his son's shoulder and gave a single nod. After watching the prince leave Dunk realised that someone would need to tell Ser Gerold about his sister's fate and hardened his heart for the task he was about to do.

* * *

**GEROLD**

Tom the Turtle was a long, lanky young knight whose strength and skill with a blade were the pride of House Estermont. Gerold had fought him a few times in tourneys long past and more often than not came away second best and covered in scrapes and bruises. It felt good to fight a man who could wield a blade without hesitation, someone with strength enough to test Gerold's own skills, someone who could take a blow and still keep fighting.

In the few times when they had fought before Gerold would have practiced patience, but not today. Today he wanted to beat the grief out of his body. He had just finished with the Maesters fussing about his wounds when Ser Duncan the Tall had come in to speak with him.

Normally the big man greeted him with a smile and a jape, but when he walked into those chambers he seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and as soon as the old men had been sent out he told Gerold that his little sister was dead.

The words hit him like a knife to the stomach, twisting and serrating at his insides. The whole time Duncan went about giving his condolences and all Gerold could think about was the last words he had said to his sister. Surely it had been a jest of some sort, a bawdy joke or gentle teasing, but as much as he tried to think on it the more it eluded him.

After the lord commander had left Gerold sat in his chambers for some time trying to focus on his sister's face but all that brought him was pain. He took a moment to compose himself and set about writing to his nephew Leyton that not only were his father and mother dead, but also his aunt. _I'm the last of my father's children_ he reflected miserably.

It seemed odd to Gerold just how unreal it all seemed. He had spoken to his brother and sister a month passed and now they were gone for good, not even his letters could reach them now. What was left for him now?

He poured himself a cup of wine and looked over one of the cloaks Alerie had made for him. The creamy white silk standing out beautifully against the dark grey background, it had been crafted with love, despite the fact that Alerie herself had no love for the craft. _She knew that I would never care for having more cloaks made, so she did it herself._ The thought only stung his heart more.

A sudden memory came to him then, one that he had not thought of in years. He was fifteen and his family was visiting Horn Hill for a tourney, while his brother and parents had gone off to cosy up to Lord Tyrell Gerold and Alerie stayed and watched the jousts, though they had arrived late and struggled to make their way through the mass of people. Eventually the match had begun and Alerie, who was little more than a child at the time, had begun to cry. _"I can't see the knights Gerold! I'm going to miss it!" _Gerold had wiped away her tears and lifted her up onto his shoulders so that she could get a look. He could still remember that wide eyed look of wonder that passed over her when she saw it all.

The faintest of smiles crossed his face then and he took a mouthful of wine before standing up and adorning the cloak Alerie had made for him. He then went out and searched around the Red Keep until he finally found Ser Barristan scrubbing his armour with furious intensity. When the young man saw Gerold in his doorway he put down the brush and armour and dipped his head.

"Ser Gerold, what can I do for you?" he asked curiously.

The bull of Hightower gave him a broad grin and smacked the lad on his back, and chuckled when he saw the boy wince. "You can come get stinking drunk with me at a tavern and I'll tell about the fairest maiden I ever knew."

* * *

**RHAELLE**

She woke with a start, every nerve tingling. For a moment she did not remember where she was. Despite the fact that she had grown up in Maegor's holdfast and spent much of her life in the large castle she hadn't thought of it as home in years. Even now while she lay in the tangled covers of her childhood bed it still felt as though she was in a stranger's room. _Storm's End is my home,_ she thought dreamily. _Steffon and Edric are my home._

Her dreams had only confounded the matter, and the one that had currently woke her was much like the ones she had been experiencing for the last week; a battle in the snow between dead men and small army bearing the sigil of her husband's house only in brighter colours, reds and oranges and gold around the black stag. And the blue eyed corpses. That had frightened her most, right up until she awoke and even then it took her a moment to realise where she was.

The room was cold and black though she was warm beneath the blankets, glancing about she saw that dawn was not yet come and tried to lay back down and fall to sleep. Yet sleep would not take her and for an hour Rhaelle laid in bed staring at the ceiling of her room. _I am not going back to sleep, _Rhaelle realized. Finally she willed herself out of bed and wrapped herself up in a robe that was hanging beside her bed and slowly made her way out into the hallways.

She ghosted through the pitch black hallways on unsteady feet and before she knew it she was already at her little brother's door. Ever since they had heard that horrid news about Alerie's death Aemon had kept to his room and seldom spoke to anyone. Rhaelle's father had dutifully told her and Duncan and Jaehaerys that they should try and give him distance for now while the wounds were still raw.

Taking a breath, Rhaelle gently pushed the chamber door open and slid into the dark room. The hearth that sat at the foot of the bed still glowed with warm coals that gave off a dim orange light. Her brother sat in a chair by the coals, wrapped under a bundle of blankets that covered him from his chin to his toes as he sat curled up. His purple eyes were watching the glowing coals with dull interest. If he knew that Rhaelle was in the room he gave no sign of interest.

"Aemon?" she asked quietly, taking a few tentative steps towards him. "You should be sleeping."

Her brother blinked twice and turned to face her. He looked at Rhaelle as if he had never seen her before in his life before turning back to the coals. "I could say the same for you big sister."

_At least that's something_, thought Rhaelle as she dragged a chair to sit beside him. When they were both young Aemon used sneak into her chambers at night asking to sleep in her bed because of some dream that had troubled him. Sometimes he would be crying, not because of his dreams but because of how he was disturbing her. When she was young Rhaelle thought it annoying, but now that she was a mother she couldn't help but find it sweet how much he cared.

"How about we make a deal? If you come back to bed then I'll join you and if you still can't sleep then we can still talk to one another."

Surprisingly Aemon smiled at that. "Only as long as you don't kick me in your sleep again." there was humour in his tired voice, just enough to make Rhaelle think that her brother was not yet taken by madness or grief.

Rhaelle smiled back. "Deal."

Taking her brother's hand she led him back to his large unused bed and nestled under the covers. The bed was colder than her own and it was clear that he hadn't slept in it for days. They lay in silence for a time before she heard Aemon turn to look at her.

"We were going to name our child Baelor if it was a boy or Visenya if it was a girl."

The lady of Storm's End smiled in the dark. "Those are strong names."

He laughed softly. "You know the first time I met Alerie I was at a feast in Highgarden, discussing how the Faith were brought to heel by Maegor the cruel and as I'm speaking up comes this fierce young woman with the loveliest blue eyes I've ever seen telling me that _no_, I was wrong and that it had been king _Jaehaerys_ who reconciled the Faith with the dragons. Can you imagine Elle? someone talking back to a Targaryen prince about his own family's history….that's when I knew that I loved her, in that first meeting." His voice caught and he struggled with a breath then. "My wife…and my child…they died alone and they died in pain. Why? Alerie never hurt anyone...she was kind and courteous and prayed to the Seven every day and still she was ripped away from me…why Elle, what did I do wrong to bring this on her?"

She could hear her brother sobbing in darkness then, his body's movements shaking the bed slightly. Rhaelle reached over for him and drew him into a tight embrace, just as she had done when he was little. She let him cry into her shoulder until he had nothing left to cry out and fell asleep with him locked in her arms, hoping that for once their dreams would be free of horrors.


	17. A Sliver of Hope

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Thank you Ramzes for the lovely reviews, they keep me going!**

**ADDAM**

"The king wishes to speak with you."

The three words Addam desperately wished to never hear, and yet when Ser Franklyn stood at his chamber door, stern faced, Addam followed him without hesitation. He had done many things that he was not proud of before, but it was only after that raiding journey to Dorne that Addam felt he committed an act of true evil. He could still see the panicked look on the Hightower woman's face, the desperation in her blue eyes as he entered her cabin and the blood…._No,_ he warned himself, _You must not allow these thoughts to cloud your mind when in front of the king_.

Silently they went, climbing the winding stairwell begrudgingly. The light of the torches went before them, and their shadows marched beside them on the walls. Up and up they climbed until finally they came to the king's chamber. They found Maelys Blackfyre standing by his hearth, an ancient tome in his massive hands. Addam peered out of the single window in the room and could see what little daylight was left was quickly being consumed by a mass of storm clouds. When the king saw Addam and Ser Franklyn enter he quickly shut his book and set it down on a nearby before turning to his guests.

"You may leave us Ser Franklyn." Maelys commanded.

Addam watched as his sworn brother moved from the room, leaving him alone to face the king's wroth. _Remember your vows,_ he told himself before falling to a knee. "Your Grace."

"Rise Ser Addam," said the king. "I'm much too tired to deal with courtesy today, I would hear the truth from you….this business with the Dornish coast, the Hightower woman…who was it who commanded the men to murder hostages?"

Addam had no choice but to answer. "They acted under their own volition your grace; they were pirates not under contract with our company."

"I gave you command over the men, I expected that you would have shown a firmer hand with them. Alerie Hightower was not only a woman of a rich and powerful house but also bride to a Targaryen prince, do you have any idea how valuable she could have been as a hostage?" the king's voice was thick with anger.

The knight could not contain himself then. "Your Grace, I am a member of your Kingsguard and the Gold Company, not a kennel master. By the time I arrived on the Hightower ship those curs had already raped and murdered everyone aboard." The lie came easily enough; he just prayed Maelys would swallow it.

Maelys clenched his jaw at that and Addam could see the ropes of muscle tighten up along his neck in anger. "You get that one, but if you ever talk back at me again and I'll put you in a noose, is that understood?"

Addam bowed his head. "Yes your grace."

"Now," he said turning his attention down to a map that lay discarded beside his large stone table. "Did you punish those who committed the attack?"

"I did your grace, had the four men responsible for Lady Hightower's death thrown overboard for the sharks."

The king grunted in agreement before pointing to a spot on his map. "I mean to push our forces up; we can no longer wait here on the edge of the Step Stones. Our pirates will take a grand majority of our fleet and smash a hole in Aegon's southern defences; from there our land forces will march and make a foothold in Dorne."

He knew he should keep silent but he was tired and sick at heart, and he heard himself say, "Sire, these pirates should be set upon anymore Westerosi…..they are _evil_ your grace."

"Oh, and what exactly would you have me do with my fleet if not use them against my enemies? I have a large enough fleet that I'll be able to crush anything Aegon throws at us and not even that Redwyne fleet stands much of a chance. Those warriors are may not be the most disciplined but they are what I _have _Addam!" Maelys face twisted into a grimace that matched the permanent scowl that his second head bore. "My father and grandfather could have inspired a legion of followers from the very heart of Westeros itself. I never met my grandsire, though to hear men tell it he was trice as handsome as any man could ever hope to be, an image of Aegon the Conqueror, some even said that the Seven above wanted him as a king. A gift for inspiring love and loyalty." His deep voice came down to barely a whisper. "Look at me Ser, I do not inspire love, nor warmth or respect. A frightening appearance is what the Seven gave _me_, and fear is what I shall use. It is not as sweet a weapon I'll grant you, but it serves the same."

_He is not an evil man; _Addam reassured himself with the thought and spoke. "I have followed you for many years your grace. Through every contract the Gold Company has taken, every castle raided and every knife in the dark. I would do it all again in an instant over a place with the Targaryens, because you _are_ the rightful king. You may not look as pretty as Daemon Blackfyre or your father but your blood is no less theirs. You're a good man; there is no need to give your soul to those pirates."

"My soul is not what is important here Ser, my _sister_ is my heir and if it means bedding with monsters to help secure her place on the Throne then I shall gladly do it. " his purple eyes flicked back to his map. "You may leave."

_I have lost_, he realised then. "Aye, Your Grace." Addam bowed, though Maelys seemed to have turned his attention back to his old book so the white knight turned and left the room.

It was chilly in the yard when he left the king's chambers. A wind blew briskly from the west, making the banners snap and flap noisily along the walls. He glanced at the Blackfyre sigil briefly and wondered how he could keep the black dragon from becoming lost to the darkness of his own heart. _I can start by seeing to the matter I left in Humfrey's hands. _Hemade his way through the labyrinth of tents that littered the surrounding area, his thoughts racing. The pirates would only serve to create further butchery and that was not something Addam could in good conscious allow.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a gentle tugging at his sleeve and when he looked down he saw that it was princess Daenys, Ser Dafyd standing a few paces behind her. "Where are you going Ser? We still have to finish that game of Cyvasse."

Addam couldn't help but smile. "You haven't moved any of the pieces while I was away?"

The little girl shot him a toothy grin at that. "I don't need to cheat to beat _you _Ser," she looked at him curiously. "Have you been speaking to Maelys?"

"Aye, his grace was very busy making arrangements for the war my lady, perhaps you should wait a while before going to see him."

Daenys nodded in understanding, her brother was often in a foul mood of late and the best course of action was to leave the man alone to vent his anger alone rather than try and speak sense to him while his blood was up.

"I will keep the Cyvasse board ready for when you return Ser."

Addam let the corners of his mouth rise into a smile before giving a bow and continuing on through the camp. He hurried out until he was well on the very outskirts, away from any prying eyes or ears. Originally they had to be extremely careful when they first arrived back from Dorne, and Addam had made sure that only his most trusted knights were aware of what he and his serjeant brought back to the Step stones.

It was almost dark when he finally approached the small tent and as soon as he made his presence known Humfrey Strickland came out of the tent, sword in hand and with a look that would send many a man running scared. He visible relaxed once he saw Addam's face.

"Bout time you got here, I've been getting bored stiff and that woman you hired isn't much for conversation." He had a lopsided grin as he spoke and Addam wondered if he had been trying to bed the woman. Ser Humfrey was a pudgy man, with a rounded face and small beady eyes and he was prone to whoring, but he was a good man in his way and when he and Addam had discovered the secret that lived in the Hightower ship he was the first to agree with Addam's mad plan.

"Well you won't have to wait around for much longer, I intend to send them off to Lys on the morrow, _both_ of them."

Surprisingly Humfrey looked disheartened at that. "Tomorrow, but wouldn't that be too early? We can't rush these things."

"Surely you haven't grown attached to the woman?" asked Addam with a laugh.

Humfrey's eyes flicked away in embarrassment. "No not the woman…"

_There it is,_ thought Addam. _The man has grown fond of our little captive_. "You know it's for the best Humfrey, if he stays here he'll only be put in danger…..he has family in Lys and he'll be safe there from the king."

Strickland nodded sadly before giving the tent a final forlorn look. "You're right, as usual. I suppose I'll go and grab some supper with the men, you best not linger too long either Ser, a Kingsguard should be with his king."

Addam watched the man walk off and once he saw that the man was out of sight he entered into the small tent. The woman he had hired was tending to something when he walked and gave a bow when she saw. She was a pretty thing, with straight black hair and golden skin, a camp follower who had been with the Gold Company since they had begun their slow march west. It had taken little to convince her to come into his service, a handful of gold, a promise of pleasant lodgings in a foreign land and all she had to do is provide milk for a newborn.

He could still remember when Humfrey had desperately called out for him once they boarded the Hightower ship, blood was everywhere and his own men were struggling to wrestle control of the ship away from the Serpent's men. It was the woman's scream that would stay with him the most, the absolute cry for help.

They had found the woman bloodied on the floor of the captain's cabin with four of the pirate bastards standing over her with the screaming child. He barked at the men to give the child over to Humfrey and then cut them down to size. _Would that I could kill them again,_ the thought of it made a fire rise in his belly.

Addam looked over at the sleeping child now lying on a bundle made up of old cloaks, he had his father's Valyrian features, that much was readily apparent. _And that is why I must send him away, _reflected Addam sadly. _Maelys will only see you as foe sweet child, but in Lys you will be safe with your father's cousins…_

"You look very tired Milord." said the wet nurse from his side.

He absently stroked the sleeping child's head and smiled sadly. "Aye," he whispered, so as to not wake the babe. "Tired from all the death and fighting."

The woman frowned. "War is an evil thing."

"Aye, and I've lived a lifetime of evil, the gods were kind enough to give me this one chance to do something good."


	18. Crakehall

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing**

**A/N: As always, thank you Ramzes for the brilliant reviews!**

**DUNK**

"They say the Princess of Dorne has lost a son."

Dunk frowned at that and took a sip of the wine Aegon had just handed him. "The poor woman, so soon after her last boy died."

The king poured himself a glass and looked away for a moment, caught in a distant memory. Finally he turned back to the huge knight with a slight frown. "The gods give us children and they take them away as they see fit."

"Aye," said Dunk as he absently picked up a lemoncake from his king's plate and swallowing it in two bites. "I've never been a man to try and understand the gods, but I still like to think things happen for a reason, even something as horrible as the death of a child….or good-daughter."

Egg gave the big knight a searching look then, an expression that Dunk had not seen on the man since he was just a boy all those years ago. "Do you think everything will be….alright? For the family, I mean."

Dunk considered for a while. Ever since his name day the Blackfyres had been slowing tearing his family apart, just as they were trying to do to the realm. Just as they had always done, all the way back since Aegon the Unworthy had decided to stray from his wife and allow his children to turn against one another. It was maddening to think that all of the death and destruction had been born from one brother's jealousy of another.

"I think…that your children are fierce, and good, and gentle. They'll not let this destroy them and neither will you," Dunk smirked a little. "Your grandmother was Dornish after all….Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken."

The faintest of smiles crossed Aegon's face then, to which Dunk could only smile in return and a peaceful silence set in for a time before Dunk finally remembered why had arrived at the king's chambers in the first place. "When do we march?"

"In a week's time, though I fear not all of the Wardens will arrive on time. Lord Stark has to travel quite a long way south and Edric had told me that the seas around Storm's End are living up to their name meaning that travel will be slow for his men as well." the king's mouth went into a straight, thin line. "So far I have the Lannisters fortifying positions along the south and western coast with the Tyrell's already marching towards them as we speak, though, again that will take some time before we can have a full force ready to move on the Step Stones….the Lannisters are on their own for now."

* * *

**TION**

They awoke to the smoke of Crakehall burning.

As a Lannister of Lannisport the duty of leading men to patrol the coast had fallen to Tion, though his arm was still extremely stiff and sore. His squire needed to assist him in adorning his golden plate armour and by the time he was astride his horse and fully suited up he'd wanted to drink half a keg of milk of the poppy.

He could see the smoke pillowing from the coast, shrouding the sky in the thick greys and blacks over the nearby forest. The Tyroshi pirates would be marching through that forest if left to their own devices and from there they would only have to follow the flat coastlands to get straight to Lannisport, Lannisport that had only just started to pick itself up after the last attack. The pirates would come at his kin with axes and spears and curved swords in their hands and their red snakes and black dragons on their shields.

Tion looked around him and saw the faces of green boys and old men, others like Tion himself were still recovering from wounds taken in the last battle. All in all there were three hundred men in his small encampment and they were the only thing standing between Lannisport and complete destruction. _ Mother have mercy, Smith give me strength. I think I might die today…_

None of them needed to be told twice about what they were headed into and began the short march with hearts of fire. As they marched closer the fires grew more intense and smoke shot up into the air like a tear in the sky. Some of the stragglers from the surrounding villages were hurrying their way towards the modest castle of Crakehall. From what Tion could see, the pirates had not yet reached the actual fortress itself and instead took their time slaughtering as many peasants as they could get their hands on. Out of the corner of his eye Tion could see old men and women, cripples and small children hurrying forward as best they could to get away from the creeping death, the looks of terror filled his heart with something ugly.

He turned to the young men marching beside him and ordered for them to drum. Slowly but surely the drummers began to beat out a tune, loud and powerful that echoed through the skies. Tion knew that his men wouldn't need the rhythm of the drums to march but he wanted the pirates to know he was coming. _Hear me roar!_

Soon their noise attracted the attention of the castle and riders were sent out to greet them. "You are a sight for sore eyes my lord, we had thought the crown had abandoned us," said the elder of the two riders, "They've not yet reached us but the castle is only held by a skeleton crew."

Tion frowned slightly at that. "How many men?" he needed to know what he was working with.

"Some one hundred and fifty my lord, we would have had more if not for the men sent to lord Tytos."

_It will have to do_, Tion thought bitterly. He knew that he had a snowflakes chance in hell to meet the angry horde on the field. To the west of Crakehall was the sea, to the south a few meagre villages and to the east a great forest that would be too thick to fight amongst. Their only chance was to hold out in the castle until help arrived, but the gods only knew when that would be.

Crakehall itself was not an overly large castle, though it made a fine fortress in the few wars of the past that had engulfed the Westerlands and had enough of a natural defence that it would not be easily overrun. As soon as they arrived he went about ordering his men to man the battlements and set up archers and crossbowmen.

Lord Crakehall was in the main courtyard waiting for him, the old man's once curly red hair was now mostly a grey ringlet and he walked with a pronounced limp, yet his voice was firm. "Ser Tion, you are a most welcome sight in this late hour, what word from Casterly Rock?"

"None," he said bluntly. "We sent off dozens of birds when we saw the attack but have heard nothing so far. It's just us and the pirates."

Lord Crakehall looked stricken and rubbed at his chin in worry. "They…they'll have to arrive at some point won't they? I mean with all of these ravens being sent surely one of them will have reached the king or lord Tytos."

"King Aegon is not the sort of man to leave his men alone in a time of need, and Lord Tytos is no coward, no matter how much the Reynes and Tarbecks like to say otherwise," said Tion. "But that will take _time_ my lord and for now it's up to us to hold them off."

Crakehall nodded weakly, took a breath, and began shouting commands at the servants and men at arms to help set up the barricades and to bring the men food and water. _He sounds like a lord,_ Tion thought. His father had once told him that in battle a commander's lungs were as important as his sword arm. _My sword arm may not be as strong as it used to be, but I still have a voice._

The entire castle was a beehive of activity, with soldiers desperately working to strengthen all of the castle's potential weak spots. Women and children had been put to work as well. Those too young to fight would carry water and tend fires while the women would be set to aid the sick and wounded with the Maester in the great hall.

He overheard a child sniffling to his mother as he walked past. "Mama, Lord Crakehall sent ravens to the king didn't he? Tom says King Aegon is a dragon."

"Yes sweetling, the king will be here soon and make the bad men go away."

Tion didn't have the heart to correct them. Unlike his sigil, king Aegon did not have wings and if he was coming, it would not be today.

The hours came and went and the sunset sea soon lived up to its name, with the dying purple light of the sun glimmering along the sea waves. Tion would have thought it beautiful if not for the fact that it was that very sea from whence the pirates were emerging.

They came at dusk, horns blowing and howls filling the air. It was hard to see them in the dim light but Tion could already tell that they numbered more than twice as many his own men. One of the men cried out that there were Pirates coming from the west as well. _West,_ thought Tion in confusion. But then he saw them; dozens and dozens of ships sailing towards the castle, all of them flying the banner of the black dragon. _Mother have mercy…_

Tion saw that some of the squires standing with him had pissed themselves, but he pretended not to notice. His own squire looked ghastly white as the howls grew closer; the fear was upon everyone so the Lannister moved high above the battlements so that they could all see him. "MEN!" he cried, his throat growing raw. "You men are lions! Do you heat me? LIONS!" Tion unsheathed his sword and pointed out into the darkness. "Those cowards out there are nothing but ants to us! We will hold this castle and if any are foolish enough to try and take it then we shall show them how sharp our claws really are!"

The men all gave a cheer in response and braced themselves for what was to come. Tion took out a bow and pulled back an arrow, and aimed at the shadow figures approaching. To his left and right men were doing the same. "Conserve your arrows, wait till you've got a clean shot." He told his squire who took a breath and kept his hands steady.

He spotted a small collection of shadows break off from the large group, carrying something long between them. _A ladder, _Tion realised. As soon as they made it within fifty yards he released his arrow and without looking to see his target he pulled another in its place and released that as well, and then a third until finally he saw the shadowy figures topple over and drop the ladder in the mud.

Several more pirate raiders rushed then, firing arrows of their own. Tion felt one wiz past his head and quickly ducked behind merlons as another dozen flaming arrows rained over them, hitting a man to his right. Tion didn't waste time mourning the man and bobbed his head up and pulled an arrow back to his ear, aimed, and loosed the arrow, then nocked and drew and loosed again. His first shaft hit one man deep in his belly, the second one hitting another in the throat. The pirate screamed as he went down.

When his quiver was empty he went to get another, careful to keep his head down. He could hear the pirates shouting to each other, and howls of rage went through the air.

His fingers were growing stiff and his thumb was bleeding, but still Tion notched and drew and loosed. Suddenly he heard screaming coming from the western gate and quickly ran along to see what was going on. The sentries he posted on the western gate were being pinned down by dozens and dozens of flaming arrows and from the corner of his eye Tion caught sight of men with torches pounding up to the gate, a battering ram in their arms.

"There!" shouted Tion to the few archers that remained before loosing an arrow at the screaming horde.

They wore halfhelms, and had some form of green and purple sashes worn over their black and red leather shirts. Many wielded swords of Braavosi make while others used the curved Dothraki swords. Tion's squire quickly ran to his side and began unleashing arrow after arrow at the targets, hitting their shields or at the wooden ram in their arms. _Not lethal blows, but enough to make them hesitate_, Tion thought as he shot another arrow.

Soon the rest of the sentries began to focus their attacks on the few pirates carrying the battering ram. The pirates were screaming in some bastard dialect of High Valyrian as they urged the ram into the Crakehall's western gate, damaging the wooden structure even as crossbow bolts and arrows rained down upon them.

Tion continued with his repetitious act of slaughter until both his arms were stiff and his hands agony. For every blow the pirates landed Tion and his archers killed at least three men, until finally there was no one left to carry the great wooden weapon.

He was just about to shout in triumph when he spotted a ladder sitting propped up against the wall and dashed towards it. Tion had little time to shout for his men so instead he dropped his bow and ripped his sword from its sheath, and buried the blade in the face of the first man to reach the top of the ladder. The blade cut straight though the pirate's skull and he went crashing down, tumbling on the many men trying to climb up after him.

Despite kicking one ladder away at least two more had sprung up a few yards from where Tion was standing as his men struggled to hold back the rogues as they now swarmed freely atop the ramparts, cutting down men left and right with wanton glee. Tion nocked an arrow, drew, and loosed, and was pleased to see it strike a Tyroshi straight through the eye.

The fires had grown out of control now and were spreading into the main courtyard and catching fire on the hay of the stables as many of the women and children raced to put it out with meagre buckets of water. The fighting continued along the battlements and Tion threw down his nearly empty quiver and charged forward with his blade, cutting down as many as he could and kicking back the ladders to stop any further men from clambering up.

They had just begun to push the pirates back when something knocked the wind from Tion's chest. He looked down to see an arrow jutting out from his side, wedged between his plate and oozing up crimson over his golden armour. _M family colours,_ he thought absently before toppling over.

"Ser, hold on I'll-"

His squire was silenced by a single bolt sticking from between his eyes. He blinked once and then toppledforward headlong over the parapet. Tion closed his eyes and said a silent prayer before a wave of agony washed over him and he felt the blood begin to seep through his armour and pool around him.

_This is how I die, _he thought as he looked around at the carnage going on about him. _I'm so far from home, I'm sorry father…I tried._

Sharp as a swordthrust, the sound of a horn filled the air.

It was a terrible sound, a wail of pain and fury. On and on the sound went, echoing amongst the rolling hills of the Westerlands behind them and across from the Sun set seas before them, on and on until it filled the entire night air. For a moment Tion was convinced the Seven above had come to pass judgement on him when suddenly the horn stopped and he began to hear other sounds, screaming and hollering, sounds that were foreign to ears, sounds of triumph.

Using all of his strength the Lannister pulled himself up and peaked over the battlements. Below him the Tyroshi pirates were being slaughtered as a mass of screaming men cut into them from the left flank. The pirates screamed and desperately tried to chase them back only to be overwhelmed by savagery and numbers of their enemy.

More and more men were pouring off the beaches and running with a mad joy at the Tyroshi and as the fires spread across the burnt out fields Tion caught sight of a blaze of banners flying above the men. The wind was whipping them too much for Tion to see sigils but he caught sight of gold and black, and silent promised the mother that he would shower Edric Baratheon in kisses if he lived through the night.

But then he saw one of the Tyroshi ships begin to catch fire, its orange glow illuminating a larger battle at sea. _The Redwyne fleet? _Thought the Lannister as he struggled to lift himself and get a better view. _How did they get here so fast?_

The warriors began chanting together in one voice from below him and Tion's eyes widened in horror as he realised what the men were saying.

"_WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!"_


	19. Hello, Goodbye, Hello

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**TION**

"Once again, you have my deepest gratitude lord of Greyjoy."

Tion watched with vague amusement as lord Crakehall scurried around the massive Iron Islander who looked as if he would have happily buried his axe in the old man's grey speckled head. The Lannister wondered what it was that was stopping the man from doing just that, certainly the Ironborn had never shown such restraint before and neither have they ever shown willingness to aid anyone else in the Seven Kingdoms. And yet they had singlehandedly crushed the Pirate fleet.

It was said to have been a marvellous thing to behold, though Tion himself spent much of the battle unconscious from his wounds. From what he had been told the Iron fleet had snuck just beyond the shoreline and split in two, striking the Blackfyre pirates in the rear and left flank simultaneously with a brutality that the seafarers had never known before and quickly scattered across the sun set sea._Pirates getting beaten at their own game, _the thought made Tion smile.

"Old man I am short on patience, if you continue to pester me then I'll have my Drowned Priests sacrifice you to the God." Quenton Greyjoy, it seemed, did not mince words.

Hundreds of Ironmen were scouring over the battlefields now, taking anything and everything of value from the dead, swords, jewellery, and even pieces of the brightly coloured cloth worn by Tyroshi. Likewise to the west of Crakehall the Sunset Sea was littered with ships baring the Golden Kraken of Greyjoy as they took the captured enemy vessels on as their own and drowned the prisoners. At first Lord Crakehall had voiced his concerns about the brutal act but Tion subtly reminded the old man that it was miracle enough that the Ironborn had kept their attentions solely turned onto the Blackfyres rather than them and that they had better not press their luck with the Lord Reaver.

The big man pointed to Tion and gestured for him to come forth, which the Lannister did, as best as his bandaged body would allow. As soon as he stepped forward he could feel the Lord of Pyke sizing him up, yet he tried to ignore it.

"Lord Quenton, you have the thanks of House Lannister."

Greyjoy narrowed his dark grey eyes on Tion. "There are few things that I need and thanks from a Greenlander aren't one of them. When is your dragon king going to arrive?"

"The last raven said he had just arrived at the Golden Tooth, hopefully he should be here in a few days." He hoped so at least.

Quenton gave a grunt in acknowledgement before sitting himself down on one of the chairs in Lord Crakehall's solar and began to take a long swig of ale. "Well, then I suppose we best get comfortable."

* * *

**ADDAM**

The king had beaten three men to death when he heard what happened in the Westerlands. Addam watched on with trained indifference as Maelys beat the remnants of the captains' skulls into the stone floor; he had found that little shocked him anymore.

The encampment had become a storm of activity when the broken remnant of the Serpent's fleet returned. The pirate lord himself had ordered the last of his ships to retreat after the Ironmen had savaged them and set their vessels to flame, and where they once had over a hundred ships to their name now they barely had fifty. _We were fools to try and stir the Krakens, _Addam thought distaste. _We have only made ourselves another foe…_

When that beast in human skin walked back into the King's chambers Addam was certain that Maelys was going to tear the Serpent's heart out, and perhaps he would of if not for the Ebon prince whispering words of promise in the Blackfyre's ear. Addam found that the Summer Islander and several of the other Tyroshi lords had begun to swoop around the king like vultures, waiting for the right chance to sway him this way or that now that his spirits were low and to confound the matter the king had begun shunning the advice of the Gold Company in favour of his eight compatriots.

"Ser Addam? We'd best get ready." Ser Humfrey touched his shoulder gently. "If we hold off any longer then the boy will be stuck here in the middle of a war zone."

Addam turned to look at the man. "Aye, let's not waste any more time." The king and his eight would be at their meetings for a few hours more. When they emerged it was usually to pass out information to the various legions and to instruct the captains on the change in stratagem. Addam was just thankful that Maelys no longer commanded his presence during such meetings; he was unsure how much more he could take of those demons.

On his way out of the camp with Ser Humfrey he caught sight of his Company Sigil; the golden skulls of commanders come and gone, going right back since the time of Bittersteel, who was grinning madly with the rest. _Will my skull look so cheerful if Maelys discovers me?_ He shook the cowardly thought away and walked a bit more quickly. Humfrey kept pace, matching his strides to Addams own, his short fat legs having to work twice as much.

"You have secured a ship to Lys?" Humfrey asked.

"Aye, I still have some friends among the Lyseni…they will see the boy to his kin."

His friend hesitated a moment. "But….are you sure he'll be alright? He's so small and Lys is so far away…"

Addam stopped and looked down at his comrade and made himself smile. "The sons of Aerion Brightflame are this boy's family, while they may not be close with their kin in Westeros they will not let the boy come to harm. It'll be alright Humfrey; he'll grow up away from all the madness and war that the Iron Throne brings."

Humfrey frowned slightly but eventually gave a nod of acceptance and they continued onwards out of the camp to their secret tent, the wet-nurse stood near the flap wrapped up in a green woollen dress, the babe in a sling around her shoulders. The stress was apparent on her face but quickly gave way to relief when she saw them approach.

"Are we leaving my lords?" she asked in her rich accent.

Addam nodded as he approached her "The ship is this way my lady, we must make haste."

The four of them walked down a dirt path until they came across the two horses Humfrey had left earlier. The woman handed the babe to Addam as she mounted up and tiny purple eyes peered up at him, eyes that seemed much older than the few days the babe had spent on earth. The child reached up with small hands and the white knight let them grasp onto his finger, wrapping around it instinctively. For a moment he just stood there and watched the babe before breaking himself out of reverie and handing him back to the wet nurse before climbing up behind her and taking the reins.

Felling the woman pressed against his chest as they rode stirred up many feeling that Addam had long since given up and ignored when he swore himself into Maelys Kingsguard. For the first time in his life Addam started to question himself and the life he had chosen, a burning pit of guilt bubbling in his stomach.

Finally they arrived to one of the small ports that sat on the opposite side of the small island. From what he had heard it was used frequently by smugglers when transporting goods in and out of Westeros and would serve as a decent escape route for his friend's small trading galley. It was that same friend who now stood for him at the docks with his ship behind him; Iryano Potas, looking much like he did the last time Addam had laid eyes on the man; thin and tall as a tree with bright red hair that frizzled about like the mane of a lion. He was wearing a baggy green tunic that looked three sizes too large for his stick like frame yet he moved with a comfort of a king.

"Addam, by the gods it's good to see you again my friend!" he announced cheerfully.

"And you Potas," Said Addam with a slight laugh. After he dismounted he held up his hand and took the child from the wet-nurse as she climbed down. Once Potas saw the babe he walked over and inspected the infant with his large blue eyes.

"So this is the boy? The prince born on the sea?" he asked with a sad smile.

"Aye, and his wet nurse," said Addam. "I trust you'll treat them gently."

The smuggler bowed his head low. "My cabin is theirs, though we'd do well to leave now before your king's pirate fleet stirs itself."

Addam looked down at the boy one final time. The child was fussing now, as if aware of the long journey ahead of him, his little face watching the knight cautiously. _A prince,_ he thought sadly. _I have no crowns or golden fleeces to give you_. Instead the boy would have to make do with the tattered cloak that he was now bundled in.

"Be safe little prince." He gave the child a soft kiss on the forehead before relinquishing him over to his wet nurse and Potas. His smuggler friend brought his bony hand to his chest in salute before leading the woman and child onto his waiting vessel.

The white knight gave them one final look before turning back towards camp.

* * *

**DUNCAN**

Duncan Targaryen sat in Lewis Crakehall's solar alongside his father and youngest brother, drinking wine and breaking his fast with the Lord Reaver of Pyke himself Quenton Greyjoy, something, that he had not expected when he had set out with news of Blackfyre attacks in the west.

"So…" the Iron Islander's voice was a deep and tired rumble. "When do you Greenlanders plan to strike against the black beast?"

The King crinkled up his eyes. "As soon as Lord's Stark and Baratheon arrive and we are at full strength."

Quenton gave him a crooked grin. "Afraid to fight your bastard cousin are you?" he downed half his cup. "You Greenlanders were always soft but I thought that Maekar's son would at least have some stones."

"No, I'm just not so foolish that I would risk the lives of my men without giving them the best possible chance."

The two elder men stared at each other for a very long time, dark grey against bright purple. Duncan anxious wished that his namesake were about so that he could stop the two from trying to attack each other but was shocked when Greyjoy gave a low chuckle. "You have spirit, if nothing else. The Iron Islands will set sail whenever your perfumed lords can find the time to go to war," his face darkened. "But no man commands the Iron Fleet but a man _of_ the Iron Fleet."

Duncan's father gave a nod of assurance. "That seems reasonable."

"And the plunder," growled Quenton Greyjoy. "We are to take what is ours from the corpses of every Blackfyre man we slay in battle, ships and gold too."

Aegon shifted uncomfortably at that. Duncan knew his father was not the sort of man to condone needless brutality or atrocities in time of war but this was not any ordinary situation either, the Greyjoys were the best possible weapon against the legion of pirates that had fallen in with the Blackfyre pretender. Finally he gave a sad nod.

Quenton drained the rest of his wine before rising to his feet. "Then I look forward to killing Black Dragons with you….your grace." And with that he marched out of the room without a second word, leaving the three Targaryens quite befuddled.

Aemon frowned. "Was that wise father? You know what those people can be like when their blood is up, what's to stop the Ironmen from turning against us after they've defeated the Blackfyres?"

"When faced with a difficult situation it's always better to trust the devil you know over the one you don't, and….." the king trailed off and rubbed at his temples. "Gods' help me I trust the man to keep to his word."

Duncan laughed at that, long and loud. "Who would have thought a kraken and a dragon could make such good friends." All three Targaryen's laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Finally Aegon stirred himself and left to see lord Crakehall, doubtless the old man has never held court for a king before. _Lord Crakehall's father supported Daemon Blackfyre during the battle of Redgrass,_ he reminded himself. _Doubtless the man is eager to prove that he does not share his father's predilection for betrayal._

Aemon was standing by the window, a cold expression on his pallid face. _That won't do_. Duncan missed the days when his brother would laugh and joke and enjoy himself in tourneys, but those days seemed long dead. _He never smiles anymore_, Duncan realised sadly.

"Did you see Lord Greyjoy's daughter as we were entering the keep? She was a pretty thing and she kept giving you the eye." he made himself chuckle and hoped that his little brother would do the same.

Aemon did not laugh however, and nor did he smile at the jape. "She's beautiful. There are many beautiful women in the world, but what of it? I have seen the sun, felt its warmth on my face. How can candles replace that? No I'm done with love brother."

Duncan gasped at that. "Don't you think you're being…..I don't know, rash? You might find someone else."

Aemon smiled sadly at his brother then. "Those same words were said to you a long time ago, and you followed your heart just as I am following mine."

His little brother gave him one last look before he too left the room. As he sat alone in the ruins of Crakehall Duncan considered the choices that lead him to this moment in time, and the woman he had given up a kingdom for.


	20. Life and Death

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: As always, thanks go to Ramzes for sticking with this story for so long. Your reviews have kept me going this far!**

**AEMON**

Lord Stark's arrival had been the final step in motivating King Aegon into launching his assault against the Blackfyre army. It seemed all the lords of the North had come to lord Edwyle's command and bolstered the royal army's ranks to an impressing degree.

Aemon was tired. _I need sleep._ He had been up half the night practicing with sword and shield, working to improve his skills enough to be able to stand with Gerold and the others come the battle and the big knight had complimented him on his improved swordplay but still he pressed himself. Even after stumbling into his narrow bed with his muscles aching, rest had not come easily. He knew what he faced today, and found himself tossing restlessly as he brooded on what his father and the wardens had said during their last war council. "The Blackfyre fleet has been halved," the king had said, "But their cause is not yet done. Thousands of Tyroshi sellswords still yet plot away on the Stepstones along with the entire force of the Gold Company. All of our spies have confirmed that they have no intention of return to the Free Cities, and even as we speak Maelys and his legions are marching to take our lands." He looked around at each of the lords standing before him; Baratheon, Stark, Tyrell, Lannister, Arryn, Tully, and even Greyjoy. "My lords what we are about to do is no easy thing but I think we have the strength to do what must be done. They have made our realm bleed. Retaliation must be harsh and it must be swift."

The prince had taken his father's words to heart and vented his grief and fury out into the practice dummy; he liked to pretend it was Maelys he was swinging at, every blow serving as faux retribution for Alerie's death. It was during his training that Aegon had found him.

"So you still intend to fight then." It wasn't a question.

"I do. I intend to kill as many as I can, Maelys too if the gods are good."

Aegon shook his head. "You are being foolish, you've won many tourneys but those are not the same as real combat, not even in the same realm Aemon."

"I will be with Gerold, and Ser Barristan and members of the Kingsguard," he frowned at his father then. "Duncan fought beside you when he was younger than I am now."

"This isn't about Duncan."

Aemon frowned, confusion and anger bubbling up inside of him. "Then what is it about father? Why won't you let me avenge myself upon the people who killed Alerie?" a thought occurred to him, "You think I'll die."

The king levelled his purple gaze at Aemon. "No, I think you….want to."

_So it's come to this._ He supposed it had to come to a head at some point, all the simmering rage and grief and madness that had plagued his mind and heart had finally been called out into the open. Aemon gave a deep sigh, his whole body heaving with the effort. For the first time in his life he was afraid to speak to his father.

"I…have dreams," his voice hitched a little but he pressed on. "I see things a-and I don't know what to make of them. Sometimes they're nothing more than silly dreams, but…sometimes they come true. I saw that pirate attack me; I _saw_ it happen before it did. And Alerie….gods almighty I _dreamt_ of her too." Upon saying his dead wife's name he felt something give way and suddenly he was sobbing as hot tears ran down his face. " I saw you and Duncan die father, I saw you consumed in flames!" he clutched at his head as if to claw the painful images out and found himself crying all the harder.

Aegon looked stunned and for a while stared at his son as he struggled to comprehend everything he had just heard. He quickly remembered himself and after a heartbeat took Aemon into his arms, holding onto him as if to shield him away from the dangers of the world. "I want it to stop father," he said miserably. "I want things to go back to the way they used to be."

"I…I wish I could say it's going to be alright son," Aegon said hoarsely, "I wish I could tell you it's all just a bad dream and that you'll wake up fine in the morning but I can't. Our time of peace is over, and right now we have to be strong. We have to endure…" the older man's voice was shaking. "Please be strong for me Aemon. _Please. _Don't throw away your life._"_

They were quiet for a moment, father and son together in an embrace. Aemon struggled to find the strength to disagree with his father, a large part of him wanted to just return to King's Landing and leave the fighting to the soldiers and let others take his revenge. But then he remembered Alerie's smile and the rest was easy.

"Live or die I need to be there for the end of this, or I'll never have peace."

* * *

When he woke, he found Gerold looming over him in the darkness of his temporary bedchamber. "Aemon? It is time, the hour of the wolf just as we agreed."

"…Aye, so it is." Aemon threw of his blankets.

Gerold waited for him to dress and then helped him into his black and red armour. There was various rubies encrusted on his chestplate that were connected together to shape a dragon. It was a tad fanciful for Aemon's tastes but he supposed that he had to look the part when he took to the fields against the Blackfyres.

Outside the world was black and still. _Oddly cold for summer,_ he noticed. _It will be warmer when the sun sits atop us all. And when the heat of battle is upon us._ When they reached the beach dozens of men were lined up, ready to enter the massive ships that sat in the shallows waiting for war. Aemon caught sight of a few of the men's faces, some looked calm, and others looked cheerful. Most seemed anxious. _I wonder how many of them have been in an actual battle. Surely only the oldest._ Westeros had not seen any major conflicts since his father took the throne.

They met up with Ser Barristan Selmy, standing out amongst two score of Hightower knights. Aemon smiled at the sight of them. _This is your army Alerie; you will be the sword that cuts into Maelys legion._

The men dipped their heads as they saw him and Aemon returned their loyalty with a nod of gratitude. Gerold turned and shoved a skin of wine in the prince's hand, a smile tugging at his broad features. "Let's share one last drink before the war."

Aemon took a mouthful, it was Arbor gold. "If the Gods are good then we'll have another when this is over."

"My prince, Ser Gerold, I think we had better get ready, there's only so much time before dawn." Ser Barristan Selmy looked an impressive figure in his polished chainmail and plate armour, though the look of anxiety was apparent on the knight's face and it reminded Aemon of just how young the man was.

"Aye, I suppose we should board."

The interior of _Daeron's fist _was extremely crowded, with over six hundred men tightly packed together in its bowels it was lucky that the men got a chance to breathe at all. Being a member of the royal family did have its perks however, and Aemon was allowed above deck with Gerold and Barristan. The glow of the moonlight off of the sea was a dazzling sight and the prince spent much of the trip quietly watching the shimmering waters. _Why is does it take a war for me to appreciate the small pleasures in life,_ he wondered. _Because you know that you'll likely never see them again._

Out of the corner of his eye he saw two crew members laughing together, a Dornishman and a man of the north. The two looked as different from one another as any two men could get, the short olive skinned Dornishman draped in boiled leather and the tall pale northern lord wrapped up in furs. The sight of it made Aemon laugh.

"What's so funny?" asked Gerold from beside him.

Aemon pointed to the two men. "Look at that, seven kingdoms united in their hatred of Maelys Blackfyre."

The Hightower chuckled to himself. "At least something good came from this war."

The first light of dawn was upon them just as they sighted the isle which the band of nine had made their lair. Aemon could feel his stomach contents rising in his throat and his hand instantly fell to the sword at his hip and clutched at it nervously. _We're sailing right into the mouth of the monster…_

Gerold gave him a light smack on the chestplate to gain his attention and led the prince below deck. The various men rocked ever so slightly with the waves and many of them looked as if they would wretch at any minute. Gerold made sure that they all saw his massive form.

"There is nothing more terrible, nothing more glorious, nothing more absurd than war," Gerold proclaimed. "And it's alright to be afraid. Any man here who says he isn't afraid is a damn liar and a fool. "His voice reminded Aemon of rolling thunder before a storm. "Fear is useful. Fear is what gives men the strength to push themselves beyond all boundaries and allows them to fly in the face of gods." A smile came over his face then. "You men feel afraid, well so do they! But what strength do pirates and exiles hold? None I say. You men are of the Seven Kingdoms, and it's time to show these curs that we don't take kindly to savages at our door. It's time to show them…THAT EVEN THE BLACK DRAGON BLEEDS WHEN STRUCK!"

Soon the belly of the _Daeron's fist_ shook with the chants of men, their discomfort and anxiety forgotten. Ser Barristan especially seemed to be standing on better spirits than he was earlier and Aemon wondered when Gerold became such a good leader. The ship began to shake more violently now and he knew that soon they would be upon the Blackfyres.

"When we get to shallows you stay by my side," Gerold had told him in a sobering voice. "I will be leading the men into battle but they won't make it easy for us, we'll have to face the full brunt of what they can throw at us. Stay by my side and try to kill as many as you can."

A man cried out -the signal that they were ready- and the men quickly gathered their arms and shields and made their way above deck. As the newborn sun slowly rose to their backs they saw the vague outline of some encampment in the distance and in the purple haze they saw that their enemy had already dug in. _They can see us coming, _the realization twisted like a knife in his belly. _How could they not? Hundreds of ships are no small matter even in the early hours of the day._

The longboats were being lowered into the water when Gerold turned to look at the men. "Let us slay this beast and see peace returned to the seven kingdoms." Aemon was the first to follow him down into the boat, but he was quickly joined by Barristan and dozens more as they all clambered down into the boats and set about rowing with a violent ferocity towards land.

Aemon found his heart was beating in tune with each row and he had to take a breath to steady himself. The sun was higher now, and its orange glow fully illuminated the enemy. As they got closer a few of the Blackfyre men fired shots of arrows but most stood ready, waiting to sink their steel in the men.

They all unsheathed their swords then and as soon as the boats hit the beach they were upon them. Gerold and a few burly Hightower men barrelled towards the eager sellswords with a hungry violence while the others left their boat. Aemon made sure to keep beside Ser Barristan as they struggled to cut their way through the screaming horde. Out the corner of his eye Aemon spotted several other boats beach themselves and unload more willing loyalists, and soon the entire beach was alive with a storm of swords.

Blood bathed Aemon from every direction as he hacked and slashed his way through the Golden Company. In the midst of the violence the prince found that time had slowed to a crawl and that with each slice and weave of his sword the only sound that he could hear was the thumping in his chest. He fought with an odd detachment, as though it was someone else's sword cleaving into the throats and bodies of other men, as if it were someone else getting punched and cut and bled on while blades danced about around him.

Finally the loyalist forces hammered the Golden Company to the point where the main fighting was no longer confined to the beach and coast. The Hightower men under Gerold's command had pushed the enemy back into the dry open fields that made up the majority of Bloodstone Isle and had drawn the most attention from the vanguard while Brynden Tully led a collection of men from the North and Riverlands against the right flank of the Blackfyre host. The young Riverlander had proved so capable that his men had killed ten sellswords for every knight that they lost, coupled with the Baratheon forces coming in from the left, the Golden Company's land forces where overwhelmed.

Though the struggle wasn't without it's loses, many of the Reacherlords had been slain in the first landing, their ships burnt and used as barricade to hold off other loyalists. The Lannister forces were also stretched thin from the battery they had received prior to the war and were easily put down.

It was in their forward march that Aemon caught sight of several members of the Golden Company draped in white and for a moment he mistook them for his father's own protectors before realizing that they were likely Maelys' self-styled Kingsguard. _This mad jape is at an end Maelys,_ he declared to himself as he began cutting a way through to the ivory knights. It wasn't long before he finally crossed swords with one; however the other man stared at him in disbelief. He pressed forward as fast and as hard as he could yet the false Kingsguard merely kept fighting defensively, refusing to strike at Aemon in any way other than to protect himself. _Does he think this is a game? _ He wondered, his fury rising. _I'll show him that my steel cuts just as deeply as any other man's._

Aemon's blade curved and danced about the other man with as much speed as he could move it, only to be met by his opponent's own weapon in an almost casual manner. The Targaryen moved himself close enough so that he could see the whites of his foe's eyes and feigned an attack only to strike the man square in the face with a mailed fist, catching the man off guard before using his other arm to drive the blade through the Kingsguard's chestplate.

For a moment they were still, the blade in Aemon's grip connecting them. The knight looked down in disbelief before leaning forwards, his hand resting on the prince's shoulder as he winced and choked on his own blood. He looked at Aemon with eyes that were quickly losing focus and tried to gurgle something out in between the blood that clogged his throat.

"The….boy…..t-the….prince...w-we…could…only….dress him in…..t-tatters…only…._tatters…_" as he said. Then the light left his eyes and his body fell limp around Aemon's sword.

* * *

**QUENTON**

The drums were pounding out a battle beat as _Drowned God's Wroth_ swept forward, her ram cutting through the choppy green waters. The smaller ship ahead was turning, oars slapping at the sea. A Red snake streamed upon her banners; a large red serpent coiled into a figure eight on a black field. The _Drowned God's Wroth_ raked at her side so hard that half the boarding party lost their feet. Wood snapped and splintered; music to Quenton Greyjoy's ears.

He licked his lips in anticipation before vaulting overboard and landing on the deck of the enemy ship below with his black and gold cloak billowing behind him. The pirates drew back, terror clear in their painted green, purple and blue faces. Most men would cower at the sight of Quenton dressed in full plate armour, his blade at the ready. They were clutching swords and spears and foreign curved blades of the horselords, but most of them wore only boiled leather armour. A feral grin spread across the Greyjoy's face at the cowardice of his opponents.

They came at Quenton and his men all at once, hissing in foreign tongues and shaking as if the Storm God himself was before them. Left and right he laid about, an axe in each hand as he cleaved his way through the sea of meat before him. Quenton saw a green bearded fool come running towards him and the lord Reaver turned the axe in his left hand around shoved the handle through the idiotic whoreson's eye before ripping it free and spinning around and slamming it through another's head. He could feel the impact run through his hand and up his arm as he cut into the Tyroshi's helm and skull and when he wrenched the blade free the man stared at him in confusion for a heartbeat before tumbling onto the ground.

All around, the sea was full of ships. Some were burning, some were sinking, and some had been smashed to splinters. Between each ship the water was thick with corpses, broken oars, and men clinging to wreckage. The once fearsome fleet of the Serpent was getting devoured by the Kraken's might. The snakes were falling back before the Iron tide.

Men hacked at Quenton from front and back, but their curved blades could not get through his heavy plate. One man's Dothrak blade caught near one of his joints and as the man struggled to pull his blade free Quenton split the man's head in two. He slew the others with cold patience as he buried his axes deep into their chests, their leather doing little to slow his steel.

When he turned to find the next victim for his axes, he spied the Serpent himself across the deck. His chestplate adorned with a large red snake running down it. The man bore the same device across his shield. He wore no helm and his dark hair hung loosely about his shoulders, a trimmed beard on his comely face. The man's red eyes caught sight of Quenton and turned his smug grin into a scowl. "Savage! I offered you and yours a chance at power and this is how you reply?"

"We are no slaves to you, cannibal!" he roared back. "Come taste my steel!"

The pirate leapt to meet him. His longsword was a pretty thing that was adorned with Valyrian glyphs, and he made it sing. His first cut was low, and Quenton deflected it with his left axe. The second caught the Lord Reaver on the thigh before he moved his axe in the way. Quenton gave a howl of rage and swiped at the other man's face, only for his longsword to stop him. In the blink of an eye the man moved away, causing Quenton to fall forward from the momentum and as he staggered the Serpent's longsword hammered at his side, once, twice, thrice, screaming against the steel. _He darts around as quickly as his namesake,_ Quenton realized. The Greyjoy swung around with both arms and managed to catch his opponent's shoulder with his right hand axe and threw all his weight behind his left hand as he swung around take the man's head from his body, only to meet air as the man ducked away and forced his blade up through the leather joint near Quenton's ribs.

Quenton grunted in pain as he felt the blade try and pry open his ribs and get to his heart. The Serpent seemed to revel in the act as he pushed forward, his maroon eyes gleaming with sadist joy. The Lord Reaver of Pyke gurgled out a laugh and dropped his axes and grabbed at his foe's shoulders, pulling him forwards into a crushing embrace.

"What are you doing!" screamed the struggling pirate as he spat and cursed within the Greyjoy's thick arms.

"You call yourself a man of the _sea?_" rasped Quenton as he locked his mailed hands together around the man's back. "I think we should both meet the Drowned God together!"

With an inhuman effort he picked the man up off the bloodied deck and rushed forwards through the meagre wooden rail, sending the both of them down into the bloodstained waters below. The weighty armour on Quenton's chest sent them both down through the salty depths, sea water rushing through his mouth and nose and eyes. The Serpent continued to writhe in his grasp but he would not let go as darkness soon surrounded them and they descended into the Drowned god's watery halls. To a lessor man it would have been agony as the air bubbles left him but to Quenton Greyjoy, lord of Pyke and the Iron Islands, it felt like going home.

* * *

**BARRISTAN**

The air sang of steel against steel and Barristan found himself caught amongst an ocean of death and dying. The young knight danced and weaved about as three or four blades swiped in his direction, only one managed to make a connection with his body and that scraped uselessly off a steel greave. He answered every attack with a slash of his own, striking one foe across the throat and sending him to the dirt as the air left his body, the second cut managed to pierce through an opponent's chainmail and stick him in the heart. The third severed a man's head from his shoulders in a single motion.

Another man raced towards him then, swinging his sword with blazing speed. Barristan blocked the blows calmly, his longsword meeting each slash and turning it aside. _The gods made me for this,_ he thought. _A sword in my hand and an opponent before me_.

The blades rang and rang again, as the two men let their steel collide with one another like two long parted lovers. The sellsword backed away for a moment and sneered at Barristan before pressing on again; screaming as if sound could defeat him where his sword had failed. The young knight moved away at the last moment, letting the man to pass him before turning on his heel and swinging his longsword around, catching the man on the side of his neck. The blade did not quite cut through the bone and instead a squirt of blood burst out just below the man's jaw when Barristan pulled his sword free. He quickly put the man out of his misery.

The young knight let out a gasp when he spotted a big figure in black and red armour amongst the sea of knights and sellswords and immediately knew what lay before him. _Maelys, if I kill you I can save the lives of many of these men._ Barristan took a single, deep breath before closing his visor and lifting his sword. More than a dozen men lay between him and Maelys, perhaps even twenty. _Seven save me._

He clenched his blade and rushed forwards, feeling a surge of energy come through his body then as he cut across one man's mailed chest, the force of his longsword severing the rusted links and spilling gore down onto the soil below. On the edge of his narrowed vision he saw another man moving towards him with a mace in hand. The young knight swung his sword around his body before striking with a high cut that stopped at his foe's mace. The other man didn't even try to use another attack and instead pressed himself down onto Barristan's longsword. The young knight clenched his teeth hard as he struggled to keep the spiked weapon up before suddenly sidestepping just enough and spinning his blade upwards so that his opponent impaled himself on it.

Barristan pulled the blade out and continued forwards, as if the whole world was stuck at a snail's pace and he fast as a hare. Blood washed over him as he carved his way through; downing one man after another until finally he stood before the Blackfyre Pretender himself, Maelys the Monstrous.

The man was just as horrific as the tales said, with a freakishly big chest and abdomen with two heads sitting atop his fat neck. The smaller of the faces was stuck in a permanent wail of agony while the larger was glaring at Barristan with a look of utter hatred. _The gods have marked him as a Kinslayer,_ thought the young knight as he circled the large brute. He chanced a slash at the monster's broad head only for his foe to casually wave the blade away without so much as flinching. Maelys raised his massive hands, the Valyrian sword of Aegon the Conqueror and the namesake of his house within in his grasp. With freakish speed _Blackfyre_ became a whistling blur, a steel storm that seemed to come at Barristan from three directions at once.

The young knight retreated a few paces, struggling to move out of the ancient sword's reach. _His blade is Valyrian steel,_ thought Barristan. _With the force he's putting behind the weapon it's likely to break my own._ He continued to dance and weave as the giant of a man struck at him, until finally Barristan turned a high cut into a low one and slipped past Maelys' blade for once and tore at the leathered joint of the big man's armpit, biting at the flesh beneath.

Ser Barristan could see anger in his foe's purple eyes which proved signal enough to betray the man's next swipe which the young knight dodged with ease. Moving within Maelys reach, Barristan curved his blade up and caught Maelys' second head across its malformed cheek, before tracing its way down the side of his neck, warranting a cry of agony from the man. Blood welled from Blackfyre's wounds. That seemed to make the man's sense leave him as he came upon Barristan with a flurry of strikes, most of which he could barely block in time, yet the young knight had courage of his own and moved his blade low to strike at the mailed fist of the pretender, bouncing off his gloved hand without any damage but shaking the Valyrian sword out of his grasp. That was all the chance Barristan required. He finished Maelys Blackfyre with a quick thrust up through the joints of his armour, into his heart.

Blood of the dragon stained the pale soil beneath him as Maelys fell. Selmy took a step back. The longsword in his hand was red for half its length and dripping downwards. He glanced down only once at his fallen adversary. _May the Father judge you justly,_ he thought as he closed the eyes of the last Blackfyre.


	21. Epilogue

**AEMON**

He could hear the dead men coming up the steps. The slow, measured sounds of their footsteps and clanging of chains went before him, echoing amongst the pillars of the Dragon pit. Aemon Targaryen stood waiting for them beside the chair which his father currently sat. His eyes were chips of purple ice, his silver-gold hair hanging about his shoulders.

"Aemon," said Ser Gerold Hightower, newly appointed member of the Kingsguard, "you don't have to be here for this."

"He was amongst the men who attacked my father's realm." Aemon balled his hands into fists at his side. Anger swelling inside his chest so fiercely that he thought he was going to choke on it. The Band of Nine had done too much for him to not come.

Slowly but surely the five men stumbled out in single file, all bound hand to foot in heavy chained manacles. Each of them men seemed gaunt and malnourished, with only the thinnest rags to cover their emaciated bodies. Aemon could faintly smell what he assumed was excrement. _The Ninepenny Kings,_ he thought bitterly. _All I see are cowards and murderers._

King Aegon watched the prisoners with his large purple eyes slitted in suspicion, cold fury boiling just beneath their surface. His face was deeply lined with age and his silver-gold hair had lost some of its lustre yet there was a power in his stare, like that of an ancient beast which had stirred itself from a century of slumber.

Aemon kept his eyes on the blood-stained wooden block that the prisoners were soon to become familiar with. None of the men made a sound as they marched over to the spot where they would die though the prince could see the fight had been beaten out of them. _Only the shells of men will die here today._

Once the men were in place the king rose from his seat. "You men have conspired with the Blackfyre pretender Maelys to usurp my family's throne and have made the realm bleed," he declared in iron tones. "For this crime, you shall die." He gave the men a cold angry look and nodded at the headsman.

The first of the men was pushed down onto the block and the executioner's blade rose and fell. Aemon watched with cold indifference as the last of the rebellious lords were sent off to meet the Stranger. He wanted to feel something, _anything_ but instead all he had was a numbness that swelled from his heart. Beside him he could tell Gerold felt the same.

Once it was done the prince and his father returned to Maegor's Holdfast where his siblings and their children were waiting. Ever since they had returned from the Stepstones it seemed as if the entire city was alive with activity and excitement and this extended to the royal family as well. _And why should it not,_ he asked himself. _The Blackfyre line is finally at its end. _While Aemon could not find it in himself to feel happy, he was at least grateful that his niece and nephews would grow up free from the turmoil and constant misery that the Blackfyres wrought.

He didn't linger long in the city for too long after he had seen that the rogues who tried to destroy the realm were forever silenced and announced the following day that he planned on returning to Summerhall. "As lovely as the company is, the Red Keep is not my home." He told his father and brothers.

"I would prefer you stay," said the king. "For a little while longer at least."

Aemon smiled at his father's worry. "I'll be fine father, besides Summerhall is not so far from Storm's End that I can't pay a visit to Rhaelle every now and then."

Duncan laughed softly to himself. "Surely you don't mean to inflict that on her? I for one would rather face down an army of screaming sellswords than try and get both you and Steffon to behave together."

"Well you and Jenny are always welcome to come and lend a helping hand to our poor sister whenever you want." Replied Aemon with a slight grin.

"Are you sure that you wish to go back there?" Jaehaerys asked. "After everything that's happened I'd understand if you didn't."

He didn't respond with any words but merely pulled his big brother into an embrace, careful not to squeeze too tightly. After a time he parted and smiled at his father and brothers, silently thanking them for putting up with all of his mad ways for as long as they did.

On the third day Aemon Targaryen bid his goodbyes to everyone at King's Landing and made the journey south. Despite travelling with thirty armed guards, Ser Gerold requested to personally escort him back to Summerhall and as the two men rode down the Kingsroad Aemon couldn't help but feel a swell of nostalgia flow through his being. _It wasn't so long ago that we were leaving King's Landing to plan for Ser Duncan's nameday…_

"So you'll be staying in that great castle all by yourself," said Gerold from beside him as they rode down towards the Dornish marches. "Won't you get lonely?"

Aemon remembered Alerie, smiling. "No, that place might be big and imposing but it was where Alerie and I made our home. She slept beside me in our bed, and read in our library and danced in our hall." He turned to Gerold with a content smile. "The people we love all have their own ways Gerold, they leave their mark on the world around us and in doing so keep a part of themselves with us. Alerie is gone but her warmth, her love, is still around us. There's no other place I'd rather be than home."

"Just so," said the White Bull as a genuine smile crossed his broad features. "I think she'd like that idea, she would want us to be happy."

"What about you?" the prince asked. "Are you happy Gerold?"

That warranted a snort from the big knight. "All my life folks have been telling me that I needed to stop getting into trouble and aspire to something, here I am a member of the Kingsguard." he chuckled. "Aye my friend, I'm happy."

* * *

The servants greeted their long absent prince with great warmth and Aemon was happy to see that the household had been running smoothly since he was last inside the castle walls. He found himself walking through the hallways and kitchens, the solar and gardens feeling a swell of joy as the memories came flooding back to him as though it had been yesterday when he last lived them.

As he lay down to sleep in his bed once more he thought of all the times when he had held Alerie in his arms and listened to sound of her breathing. It almost felt as if she was with him now and as he closed his eyes and let himself fall into the realm of dreams he knew that for tonight at least, he would be free of fire and blood.

** The End.**

**A/N: So here we are, at the end of it all and my thanks go to those who have stuck with this story so far, it has kept me going. I'm already working on a sequel which will take place after the Events of Summerhall and deal with the few loose ends I left dangling. Until then!**


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